I'll Take Care of You
by Mistress Sorcha
Summary: Dean was kidnapped and John thought him dead. Miraculously, Sam finds Dean. Dean is terribly wounded and John fears they found Dean just in time to see him slip away forever.WARNING!: This story deals with sexual abuse and it's aftermath. Graphic Content.
1. Lost and Found

This story is a Pre-series AU. Teen!chesters in effect. Dean is 18 and Sam is 14.

**WARNING!!: **This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual abuse as it remembered and/or worked on to help heal.

This chapter contains graphic descriptions of injuries from sexual abuse and violence.

If you do not wish to read a story that contains rape/non-con, please move along now!!!! Flamers will not be tolerated!

Shifts in POV will occur to give a better perspective of all involved. Hopefully, if I do this right, you will be able to follow them with ease.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the recognizable characters, I merely borrowed them for the duration of this story.

* * *

**I'll Take Care of You**

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**Chapter 1:**

**Lost and Found…**

"Dad…Stop the car!!!!" Sam yelled. He worked furiously at his restraining seat belt.

John was startled. He glanced worriedly at his son. Sam's frantic eyes gave him pause and he slammed hard on the brakes. Sam was out the door before the Impala had even stopped moving. "Sam!!!!!! Dammit, son, wait for me!!!" He bellowed. His youngest didn't even register his words as he took off at breakneck speed toward a distant section of the dilapidated warehouse. John bolted after him, losing sight of Sam quickly as he rounded a corner and disappeared. His hunting senses kicked in and he found himself having to track his young son now instead of the preternatural evil he usually took on. He heard a door open quietly in the distance, its hinges creaking softly from years of disuse. He jogged in that direction. There were any number of options in this God-forsaken maze of buildings he found himself in. He was growing frustrated and fearful with each growing second that Sam was out of his sight. He'd already lost his eldest and he couldn't fathom losing Sam too. He heard a shot ring out from the far end of the straight away, next to the pier. He ran as fast as he could toward the bleak noise, his heart pumping furiously with fear and adrenaline. '_Please, God…I know we aren't on the best of terms, but please…let Sammy be ok…please, please don't take him away too…He's so lost without his big brother, he's already almost gone and I can't lose him. I won't lose him! Please don't take my boy away from me_…' John prayed silently as he finally rounded the corner of the building and caught sight of the open door. He slowed his stride, creeping inside with the stealth of a stalking panther. His years as a hunter had lead him to be damn near silent when he needed to get the drop on his prey. The building was dim and still, it's ominous depths broken infrequently with shafts of light from broken windows piercing the gloom. He never wavered. His eyes adjusted rapidly, at home and in their element in the shifting dark as he moving rapidly but cautiously through the squalor and filth scattered on the floor. The silence was deafening for a long, tense, seemingly eternal span of time before it was finally broken by the screamed utterances of a young voice, a voice he'd recognize anywhere as his youngest son's. He pelted toward the sounds, his mind trying desperately to not panic, but his trip-hammer heart over-ruled him, flooding him with terror.

"Sammy!?!?!" he bellowed. He slid around a corner and through the open doorway of what had most likely been the office space of the now defunct building. The sight that awaited him stole the very breath from his lungs. He couldn't move for a long moment, too enraptured by the terrible scene before him. His mind kicked into overdrive and he belted forward toward the distant figure of his son. "Sammy!!!!!!" he screamed out as he panted out his breaths. His son was levering a ragged, limp form to the ground as he finally caught up to his youngest. He took in the surroundings more thoroughly. A man lay bleeding and unconscious on the ground to his left. He saw small faces peering out at him from filthy cages along the far wall. He closed the final distance rapidly, drawing close to his son. Sam started to attention as John came to a halt a few feet in front of him. Sam leveled and cocked his gun, prepared to kill for and protect the limp figure he knelt beside. John's eyes blew wide as he recognized he broken body Sam knelt beside. He stumbled, his knees failing as he collapsed in front of him. Sam's slightly tremoring hand finally lowered his gun, his eyes registering that it was his father in front of him and not another enemy to take down. His youngest's eyes gleamed wetly, as did the tears that coursed heavily down his cheeks as he locked eyes with his father for a long moment before shifting back down to the figure on the floor.

"Oh God….Dean………." he gasped, tears flooding his eyes as well as he beheld his eldest cradled in the arms of his little brother. He reached out a shaking hand to feel for a pulse on his unnaturally still son's body before he caught sight of the slow rise and fall of his bruised and blood-caked chest. He reached out his tentative fingers to place his palm on the blood-smeared cheek and jaw of his eldest boy. "Dean…" he whispered, his thumb stroking gently on the prominent ridge of his hollowed cheekbone. "Son, can you hear me?" he said softly. Dean never moved or responded. The once terrible beauty of his gleaming and mischievous emerald eyes was now left in a haunting, coldly vacant stare. '_The lights are on, but nobody's home…' _a sadistic bastard of a voice whispered in his mind. He swallowed hard, his gaze raking over Dean's body. He was naked and unnaturally pale. His once lithe, lightly muscled form was now gaunt and malnourished and all the musculature had atrophied away. His body was road-map of scars and welts, blood and grime. His limp arms ended with raw, scarred and bruised wrists and he was pretty sure the left one was fractured or broken. His throat was ringed in bruises of obvious finger marks and cord or rope marks as well as suction bruises and even several wounds that he suspected were bite marks. The once prominent, soft curves of his lips were stained in oxblood tones and were swollen and heavily bruised, the corners marred with repeatedly torn and healed over tears in the flesh. He could see the burns from cigarettes on his eldest's limbs and torso. Cuts of various depths and sizes marred his flesh all over his body except his face. Vibrantly bright whip marks streaked over the Dean's back as well as the backs of his thighs and his backside. It appeared some were healed, while others were most definitely recent. His son's groin was heavily bruised, marked with deep, angry welts that looked as though the flesh had been pinched with clamps. John already felt as though he was on the verge of vomiting, the bile hovering just inside of his raw throat, when he saw the most terrible wounds of all. Dean's backside was bruised, caked with dried and flaking blood and grime. His entrance was torn wide and was scarred heavily from extensive abuse. John's head collapsed forward into his hands. He shook with terrible sadness and loss. He was just about ready to buckle under the onslaught of pain and anguish at the knowledge of just how much his boy had endured at the hand of the twisted bastard he could see laying unconscious on the floor near him.

John rose to his feet, a terrible fury rushing through him, pumping pure, venomous hate into his veins. A low, guttural growl issued from his throat as he closed the gap between him and the naked man a short distance away. He struck out with his steel-toed boot, finding purchase in the man's stomach. The man bucked under the energy of the movement and he whimpered in his unconscious state but didn't come around. John lashed out, striking the man viciously in his groin over and over again. John pulled his gun from his waist band, leveling it on the man, ready to squeeze the trigger and remove the filth before him from the world for good.

"Dad?..." he heard a voice say softly from behind him, "…don't. He doesn't deserve a quick death…besides, we need to get the other kids help and get Dean out of here." Sam said, his voice resounding with truth and wisdom beyond his years. His son's words gave him pause. Part of him wanted to refuse the words, to take his vengeance right here and now, but an even bigger part wanted the man to suffer heavily for everything he had done. Sam was right, he didn't deserve a quick death. His placed his gun back into its hiding spot beneath his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed 911. There was a long pause before a clipped and professional female voice issued from over the phone. It was quickly stolen away by static and he cursed under his breath and he wandered away from his sons to find a signal. Finally the voice became clearer.

"Hello? Please state the nature of the emergency. This is an emergency line and we can not tie up the line if this not an emergency call…" the voice issued huffily. "I am ending this call…"

"Wait!!" John said as he finally got heard.

"Sir? Can you hear me? Do you have an emergency to report?" the woman said more forcefully.

"Can you hear me? I need to report a crime. A man has a bunch of kids locked in cages in a warehouse by the water front. They've been abused. The man is bleeding from a stomach wound. You gotta send help ASAP!" John said.

"Sir? You said a man has children in cages and he himself has been wounded?" she asked.

"Yes. I believe he is the man responsible for all the disappearances of the children in the neighboring cities..." John said curtly.

"Can you give me an exact location?" she said urgently.

John took a moment to place himself in the position of where he had pulled off and then mentally tracked his location from there. "Take Waterman street south from Bender Rd., turn right at the first building, go up two buildings, turn left, proceed straight forward for three building and then turn left again. It's the building closest to the pier. The door is open, he and the children are in the back of the building where the offices used to be. Better hurry, he doesn't look too good…" John said, toeing the man's limp form.

"Sir? Emergency Services are on their way. Can you give me your name?" the woman croaked out.

"My name?" John said, he purposely strode back into the static-filled depths of the warehouse. "My name is…" he said , pausing for a long moment then snapping the phone closed and turning it off, hoping they took it as a dropped signal. He spun on his heel, returning to his sons' sides. He looked around briefly, finding an old canvas tarpin. He dragged it over to Dean.

"Sammy? I got him, son. I need you to go get the car." John said quietly as he wrapped his eldest boy's broken body in the tarp to give him a measure of modesty back.

Sam glared at his father. "No, I'm not leaving him!" he shouted harshly.

John bodily lifted Dean in his arms, wincing in sympathetic pain for his boy as he gripped his son tightly to him, vaguely noting how much thinner and lighter his son was. He turned his attention back to his youngest son. "Samuel Winchester, I am giving you a direct order. Now you take the keys from my pocket and go get the car!!! I will carry Dean." John shouted, hating to have to yell at his youngest son, but he needed to get them the hell out of Dodge and he knew he couldn't carry Dean all the way back to the car from there. Sam glared daggers at him, still refusing to move.

"Now, Sam!!" he shouted. Sam made no move to go. John sighed deeply at his youngest's defiance. He needed to shift tactics if he was going to get his son to listen to him. "Sammy?" he said softly, appealing to his youngest's tender nature, "…son, I need you to go get the car. I can't carry your brother that far and we need to get out of here before the police arrive. Please son, I know you don't want to leave your brother but I've got him and we need to go. Please, take the keys and go for the car."

Sam's eyes welled with fresh tears. He never wanted to leave his brother's side again now that he had found him at last but he knew his father was right. They needed to get out of here and get help for Dean. He swallowed hard, nodding to his father. He deftly picked the keys from his father's pocket and, taking one last look at his big brother, he bolted out the way he came, back toward the car. He was just coming into a growth spurt, his legs disproportionately long and his gait was still coltish and ungainly as he fought to rewrite his movement style to accommodate them. John watched him go for a moment simultaneously proud at the fact that he never felt his son's fingers on his body as he slipped the keys out of his pocket and also a little sad that he should be proud of his boy being so good at stealing. He pushed it out of his mind and turned toward the cages. Whimpers and sobs issued from their depths as he peered cautiously into the metal enclosures. Keeping his tone soft and gentle so he didn't frighten them further he said "Don't worry, help is coming. Just hang on, ok?" A few of the more reactive children nodded, but for the most part, the children just stared back at him, looking for all the world like broken rag dolls. He swallowed hard to fight to keep the bile from rising past his throat. There was at least a dozen of them, if not more. How many more had the sick bastard taken and used over the years before discarding their broken bodies and acquiring new, helpless young children to devastate and destroy. John fiercely wished that what he heard about what they did to child molesters in prison was true. He always had heard that they were found extremely distasteful by the other prisoners and were often subjected to the same treatment they had laid upon the children they abused.

John strode over to the man's heaped form. His face twisted in a sneer of pure hate. "I hope you are raped and beaten every single day for the rest of your life, you sick fuck and then burn in Hell for all eternity…" John growled menacingly down to the man. He knew, without a doubt, Hell was a real place. He prayed to whatever God that might be listening that he let the man live long enough to suffer every twisted torment he had once dished out before casting the bastard into the fiery depths once and for all. He turned, hefting Dean's body into a better grip and made to stalk toward the entrance when a small, quietly sad voice called out.

"Hey mister?" the young, broken voice said. He turned back to the cages, trying to identify the speaker. A slightly older boy of perhaps 12 or 13 was cradling a younger boy who was about 9 years old close to his body. The boy pressed himself closer to the bars. John moved closer to him.

"Hey there...what's your name, son?" John asked gently.

The quiet boy studied him intently for a moment before answering. "George. My name is George. This is my little brother Jimmy…" he said squeezing the little boy tighter.

John's legs just about gave out. Instantly, he was putting Sam in these boys' place and he fought desperately not to vomit. His eyes clouded over with tears and he closed them tight for a moment to fight inside himself for control again. He took a deep inhale of air, letting it fill him up and then he let it issue out of himself slowly as he tried to hold it together with his tattered and frayed nerves. He looked back at the young brothers, willing himself to speak, even as his heart was breaking.

"Hey, George, my name is John. This is my boy Dean. I'm gonna get him help. I'm gonna get you all help and get you home to your families, ok?" he said softly. The boy nodded.

"John, can you thank Dean for me?" George asked quietly.

"Course I can, George. Can I ask you what for?" John said. The boy shifted uncomfortably. "Hey…it's ok. You don't have to tell me." John said, trying to ease the pain of the child.

"No. Its ok." George said, steeling his nerve. "When the man took us, it was because he was after my little brother. He grabbed me too because he couldn't pry us apart. He used to beat me while Jimmy watched, he'd hurt me to get to Jimmy. When he first…um,...took...my brother…I was too out of it to stop him. Dean started screaming at the man, telling him to stop, begging him to take him instead. He said the man could do anything he wanted to him if he let my brother alone. The man brought my brother back, taking Dean instead. I guess having someone be willing to do anything must have made him happy or something… He hurt Dean over and over again, and all the time Dean let him because the man told him if he stopped being cooperative he'd come back for my brother. From that day on, anytime the man would start in on any of the other kids, Dean would beg him to take him instead. The man always obliged. Dean stopped all of us from being hurt for a very long time. Sometimes Dean would be too messed up to take and the man would take one of the others instead, but for the most part, Dean kept us all from being hurt anymore. After a while, he stopped speaking or doing anything. That was almost 2 weeks ago. It didn't stop the man from taking him, though, it actually made him take him even more often…" George said, his eyes spilling over with tears and his tiny voice shook. He steeled his nerves one last time because this was important and he knew he never get the chance again. "Can you thank Dean for watching over us all? For saving us? For saving Jimmy when I couldn't?" he whispered.

John's mind reeled at what the young boy told him. Dean put himself in harm's way to defend innocents time after time. God, Dean really was the most selfless soul he'd ever known. His son both saddened and amazed him with how willing he was to sacrifice himself to save others. John shifted Dean's body up onto his forearm so he could reach out his hand. The boy looked at him tentatively for a long moment before reaching out to take it in his own. John squeezed it softly, holding it for a moment. He locked eyes with George, his own eyes thanking the boy for telling him what his son had done for them. "I will, son. I promise." John said.

George squeezed his hand back, nodding. "Thank you." He whispered before he withdrew his hand. He reached out to Dean, his small palm gently resting on Dean's shoulder briefly before retreating back into the bars of the cage to clutch his little brother even tighter.

John shifted Dean into more stable hold and turned to go. He distantly heard the faint mewling cries of the oncoming sirens. He hoped Sam was faster then the lawmen bearing down on them. He heard the growling rumble of the Impala closing in rapidly. He heard the tires squeal as it rounded the distant corner then again when it roared around the final corner. He exited the building just in time to watch it slam to a halt not 3 feet from him. Sam surged out and wrenched the back door open, throwing himself in and sliding his way down the slick seat. John leaned down, levering his son's body into the tight space, Sam doing his best to take Dean from him. Finally he got Dean situated enough that he could close the door, leaving Sam to adjust his brother's body into a more comfortable position while threw himself into the driver's seat and slammed the black beast into gear. They surged forward and around the corner in the opposite direction of the approaching sirens of John Q. Law. He drove hard and fast, plowing through back alleys and side streets until they were safely away from the scene.

Now that they were safely away, John stole a long glance to the backseat to look upon his boys. What he saw damn near broke his heart all over again. Sam had Dean cradled to his chest, laying on his side to ease the incredible pain that must be present from all the wounds on his back. Sam alternated stroking his big brother's hair and face softly and trailing his fingers gently down his brother's shoulder and arm, whispering soothing words to the broken man in his lap. He rocked them both lightly, making sure to be as tender and careful as he could be so he didn't hurt his brother even more. "Don't worry big brother, I'm gonna take care of you…you always took care of me, raised me up while dad was away, made me the person I am today. I'm gonna get you better if it's the last thing I do. Just hang on, Dean. I've got you. I'll take care of you, I promise…" Sam whispered softly, his words a ceaseless stream of comfort and love.

John had to turn away, the pain of the words and the sight making him on the verge of breaking down completely. He couldn't do that, he needed to be strong for his boys. They needed help. He swallowed hard, his pride bristling briefly before he inwardly told it to shut the Hell up. He reached deep in his pocket, pulling his phone out and dialing the number his heart never let him truly forget. Though they weren't on the best of terms, he knew deep down that Bobby Singer loved the boys as his own, having never had the chance to have a family of his own. If anyone could care for his sons the way he did, he knew it would be Bobby. The line snapped open, a brief rustling sound issued from the other end of the line before a gruff voice sounded over the air. "Winchester? That you? This had better be good 'cause I still ain't forgot about the last time you came 'round…"

John smiled bitterly for a moment remembering how Bobby had chased him out of his house with a cocked and loaded shot gun. He really had deserved it, him and his big damn mouth and ego. He was surprised it hadn't happened years sooner. Bobby had always had more patience and grace then he had given him credit for. The last time he was there, he had bitterly employed a scorched-earth methodology to raze his long-standing friendship right into the ground. "Yeah, Bobby…it's me. I need your help…it's Dean. He's…he's real bad, Bobby. He was kidnapped almost 5 months ago. I thought he was dead…I,…well, actually Sam found him today by accident or luck or…I don't really know how he found him, but he did. He's alive, but he's been hurt pretty bad…" John stopped for a moment to let his words sink in. Bobby fairly erupted over the phone.

"What!?!?!!?!?!?!?! That boy was kidnapped and you didn't pick up the Goddamn phone to tell me?!?! What the fuck is the matter with you, you stupid bastard!!!! Don't you think I'd wanna know if some 'un bad happened to your boys? I mean Hell, I helped raise them!!!! I love 'um like they were my own sons!!! I am so kicking your ass for this, John…you can count on that…You get your ass here on the double. I'll have my pal Silas get his ass over here. He's a doctor, he can help…" Bobby growled out.

John knew he deserved the ass-kicking he was sure to receive from Bobby. The man had been around for more of the boy's childhood then he had, he supposed. How could he not have called him? He bit back the disgust he already nursing for himself. '_Cause he's right, I am a bastard', _he thought_. _He swallowed hard, knowing he had to give Bobby the full story in order to get Dean all the help he was gonna need. "There's something else…He was…" John broke off for a moment as he choked back a sob, tears broke free of their lashed confines and strolled unabated down his face. "…he was abused Bobby…in every sense of the word." he almost whispered, as if by not speaking the words loudly he could make them not true.

"Oh sweet Jesus, no…" he heard Bobby gasp and heard a heavy thud on the other end of the line.

"Bobby?" he said worriedly into the phone. After a few moments, he could hear Bobby speaking softly on the other end. "…not Dean…God, why did it have to be Dean…Hasn't that boy suffered enough already?..." John couldn't agree more. He was stopped at a stoplight as he made his way out of the town they had just blazed through. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, before swiping his rough palm over his face. He glanced back at his son's in the rear-view mirror, quickly turning away when his emotions spiked violently. He surged forward from the light, barreling headlong toward the sanctuary of Bobby's house. "I know, Bobby…I know…" he said dejectedly.

Bobby seemed to have got it together enough to get back on the line. "Get here John, as quick as you can. I'll tell Silas what's goin' on, so he'll be prepared. Is he awake?" Bobby asked sadly.

"He's catatonic Bobby…it's like the lights are on but nobody's home…" John said softly so he wouldn't disturb Sam.

Bobby cleared his throat heavily on the other end, and he knew without a doubt that Bobby was thinking the exact same thing he was thinking, but neither one of them was willing to give a voice to that thought. '_We may already be too late to save him…' _his asshole of a subconscious whispered.

"He's a tough kid, John…he'll pull through." Bobby said, but the conviction didn't read in his voice.

"I'll be there in 6 hours, maybe 7…I…um…I'm sorry Bobby…" he sighed, the bitterness and disgust at himself weighing heavily on him.

"No you ain't…not yet anyways...We're gonna have a real long chat about things when Dean is on his way to being on the mend, you mark my words." Bobby growled out.

His mouth tugged in one corner slightly, knowing that the man on the other end of the line still cared enough for him to call him on how much of a bastard he was. His heart swelled with the knowledge that if anything ever happened to him, Bobby would be there to watch over his boys. "Duly noted Bobby. And thanks…for everything…" he said sadly.

"Your welcome, ya idjit…" he said gruffly before the line snapped off.

John tucked the phone away, stealing a small glance at his son's before gripping the steering wheel tighter and throwing himself into the task of putting rubber to the road. '_Hold on boys, I'm gonna make this right if it's the last thing I do…._' he thought.

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**A/N:** Ok, I've written a lot of dark and angsty stuff before but this one is gonna be real dark and angsty for a while, so hold on to your hats.….

**As always, please, please, PLEASE Read & Review!!!**

Also, I have updated the links to my Supernatural line of jewelry I have for sale on eBay, including replicas of the **Mary Winchester Hunter's Protection** bracelet (as seen in the episode **'In the Beginning'**) and the **Dean Winchester Skull** bracelet (worn from **season 2 to present**), and other Superntaural-themed bracelets!!! The links are now current so if you wish to see them, they are handily located on my **Profile**!!!!

I can also get ahold of replicas of the **Dean Winchester Protection Amulet**, if anybody is interested.

Thank you everybody for reading my work!! *hugs*


	2. A View Through the Looking Glass

**Setting:** This story is a Pre-series AU. Teen!chesters in effect. Dean is 18 and Sam is 14.

**WARNING!!:**This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual abuse as it remembered and/or worked on to help heal. This chapter contains graphic descriptions of sexual abuse and violence.

If you do not wish to read a story that contains rape/non-con, please move along now!!!! Flamers will not be tolerated!

Shifts in POV will occur to give a better perspective of all involved. Hopefully, if I do this right, you will be able to follow them with ease.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the recognizable characters, I merely borrowed them for the duration of this story.

* * *

**I'll Take Care of You**

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

**A View Through the Looking Glass…**

"_Such a beautiful face…" the man said, stroking the back of his fingers slowly down his cheek. Dean squirmed away from the man's touch, wrenching violently at his bounds. The man laughed deeply, his head cocking to the side to study his newest acquisition as he stalked slowly around him, raking his lust-filled gaze over every inch. Dean lost sight of the man, but felt him behind him. It made him extremely uneasy to not have the enemy in his sight line. It made him feel vulnerable…Dean Winchester loathed to feel vulnerable. The man pressed close to him from behind, his hands stroking slowly down his biceps to his sides, making their way to his hips. Dean's eyes snapped closed and he bit down on his gag as the man trailed his fingers over his groin, his palm flattening over his crotch, stroking a little more roughly with each pass. Dean's body stirred slightly, regardless of his wishes, responding out of pure instinct from being touched. Dean fought to keep tears from coming. He was disgusted by the man and he resumed his violent struggling to free himself._

"_Hmmm…you've got a lot of fight in you…I like it…it will make breaking you so much sweeter…" he whispered harshly in Dean's ear._

_There was a flash of light, the image shifting…Dean was knelt on the ground now, the man stalking around him again. Dean was bruised and dried blood was streaked over his naked body. His hands were chained to the floor before him, making it impossible to run away. The man was naked as well, leering over Dean, lazily stroking his turgid flesh as he circled his captive. Finally he came to a stop in front of him. He reached out, gripping the boy tightly around the throat, squeezing down enough to bruise, but not enough to cut off all air. Dean wheezed in breaths, his half-closed eyes shifting to look at the man, fear pouring out of his tear-filled gaze. The man smiled menacingly, bending to kiss the bloodied lips in a savage flurry of teeth and tongue. Dean tried to wrench his head away, but the man held tight. When he finally departed from the kiss, he let go of his swollen member, bringing the now free hand up to Dean's face. _

"_Such a pretty little mouth…" the man purred as he ran the rough pad of his thumb over the tender tissue of the boy's lips. "I think I know just what to do with a mouth like this…" he said in a whispered hiss._

_He took up his swollen member once again, guiding it to Dean's lips. Dean locked his lips tight, despite the fact that his lungs were screaming for air. The man let loose of his throat long enough to pull back and kick his foot out, making contact with Dean's stomach and diaphragm. Dean's mouth slammed open as he fought to draw breath into his tortured lungs. The man gripped him at his throat again and forced the engorged flesh inside…_

_Another flash of light, the image shifting once again…Dean was hanging from ropes tied to the metal beams above them. His wrists were swollen and raw, blood and grime was prevalent over the entirety of his naked form. Bruises and wounds abounded all over as well. Dean's lips were stained oxblood red from dried blood, the side creases torn. Tear tracks made trails in the blood and grime on his face, dried for now, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn't return later. _

"_Tell me again…Say it, or I go get little Jimmy out to play with while you and poor little Georgie get to watch…" the man husked out, trailing a vicious little blade over the boy's cheek._

_Dean's eyes flickered closed, his face a picture of despair. "Ok…, I'll do it…" he whispered dejectedly, steeling himself to repeat what he'd shouted at the man to make him stop touching the young boy he'd recently dragged in. The boy and his older brother had been brought in together, the man had been unable to pry them apart, so he'd taken them both, rather then lose the one he was after. Dean had been too out of it to stop the man from beating the older boy, but he'd come 'round in time to see the man drag the older boy back to the cage and drag out the little one. He watched, sickened as the man began cutting off the weeping boy's clothes, the boy crying and calling out for his big brother. The older boy was unconscious, the beating he'd taken to try and save his little brother had left him broken and bloody and mercifully able to not have to witness his brother being raped. Dean had choked down his own fears, screaming at the man to stop, to take him instead. The little boy and his brother reminded Dean heartbreakingly of him and his own little brother. The twisted thought of the man taking and hurting his Sammy made him almost vomit the meager amount of food he had eaten back up. Dean kept screaming at him, begging him to just leave the boy alone, to take him instead and do whatever he wanted, if only he'd spare the boy that reminded him so strongly of his little brother. The man had had the boy naked and strung up already, touching him, stroking him, like the first day he'd had him, taking in the body before him and thinking up all the disgusting things he would do to him. When Dean had said he would do anything the man wanted, the man had stopped, his head cocked, pondering his offer. He took the little boy down, dragging Dean out and stringing him up instead. The boy curled up next to his big brother's chest, crying and shaking, too scared to do anything else but huddle close and try to take what little comfort he could from his brother's presence. _

"_Say it!" the man screamed._

_Dean shuddered, a fresh tear leaking down his ragged face. "I'll do whatever you want…just leave them alone…" he whispered._

_The man's lips turned in a wicked smile. "That's a good boy…Now, if you don't cooperate or refuse in any way, I will put him right back up on this rack and use him so hard and for so long that he'll never come back from it. Do you understand?" _

_Dean swallowed hard, his eyes flickering open to look at the two young boys in the cage, huddled close, one broken and bleeding and the other terrified to death. He steeled himself one last time, knowing he had to do it, he had to save them. At least he could save them, spare them the pain and horror, even if he would never get the chance to save himself. _

"_I understand." Dean whispered._

"_You understand what, boy?..."_

"_I understand…master…" he sobbed out._

"_Good boy…such a good little slave…makes daddy so happy you've accepted what you are now…"_

_Dean's eyes slipped closed as the man closed in on him. Now the real abuse would begin, as the man pushed him further and harder, using him and hurting him in unimaginable ways. He knew that was what he was consenting to, but still he held to his decision. The man was so close now, his rancid breath ghosting over Dean's face as he crushed his rough lips hard against his own, plundering unmercifully inside…_

* * *

Sam sat bolt upright in bed, his chest heaving, tears flowing heavily down his face as he sobbed quietly. He slumped back down, curling up in a fetal position on the lumpy bed as the details of his vivid nightmare ravaged his mind. Dean used to come to quiet and soothe him, slipping silently into the bed and letting Sam curl up against his chest as he stroked soothing circles over his back. For a long time after Dean had finally told him that monsters were real that Christmas Eve night when he was 8 years old, that there really were things, bad things lurking out there in the dark, Sam had been plagued by nightmares. Dean had always been there to bring him back, to make him feel safe. There had been a lull in his nightmares, only popping up sporadically in the years after that until just before he'd turned 13. They'd come roaring back with a vengeance, incredibly vivid and disturbing. Sometimes, the things he saw were eerily similar to things they later heard about or read about in the papers. Sam never told anyone that little fact for fear that they'd think he was even more of a freak then he already was. He couldn't even make himself tell Dean. He just couldn't risk his brother looking at him like he was a monster…like he was something they should be hunting…He got feelings too, sometimes. Gut-wrenching pangs when something wasn't right, when it felt off and his subconscious was trying to warn him. He learned very quickly to trust those feeling. Ignoring them had almost cost him his brother. If he'd left it any longer, his brother would have been dead before he found him, bleeding and broken, near death after a hunt had gone completely sideways and they had been seperated. In the end, Sam knew he would listen when he was being warned from then on. When he'd have nightmares then, Dean would sit patiently on the edge of his bed, rubbing soothing circles on his back, whisper soothing words until Sam fell back into an untroubled sleep. Dean would stay awake, watching his baby brother until he was certain the trouble had passed before finally settling back into his own bed. Sam only ever felt truly safe when his brother was around, a constant, stable presence in the next bed, or by his side wherever he went. That had all changed, his worst fear manifesting itself into the real world, sending everything into chaos and despair. Dean was gone now and he was all alone with this nightmare come true.

Sam had been plagued by a reoccurring nightmare over and over for nearly 2 weeks before Dean had disappeared. It was always a dark figure, slipping out into the light, Sam never able to see his face, as he grabbed up children, his hand snaking over their noses and mouths with a cloth…the children's wide, terror-filled eyes as he held their struggling bodies, the cloth firmly in place until their bodies went limp and their eyes slid shut. He worked quickly and efficiently, hauling them into a shady-looking van, sliding the door closed after him. He bound and gagged them then tied them or cuffed them to a heavy steel ring in the back of the van. The faceless man would slink forward in the driver's seat and then take off at a leisurely pace, so as not to attract attention. Sam dreamt of him doing this over and over again, always the same, until the last night…then the details had changed slightly. Instead of the wide-eyed children, he saw nothing but the back of the man and the struggling figure he was taking. The figure was taller, older then any of the other times he'd had the dream, and there was something terribly familiar about the figure that Sam couldn't for the life of him place.

That had been just a little over a week after Dean's 18th birthday. The next day, while Sam was in school, Dean had gone for a short walk down to the grocery store to get a few necessities for them as they were running low on food supplies. Dean had almost asked their father to borrow the Impala, but it had been such a nice day, he decided a walk would be nice for a change. After all, he spent a large portion of his time inside the black behemoth and even though he loved the beautiful, sleek muscle car, he sometimes just needed to stretch his legs a bit. Dean wandered through the store, gathering the goods, taking his time. He was unaware of the man silently watching his progress from the dark corner. When Dean finally finished his meandering and headed for the front, the man slipped out the back and around the edge of the building, tucking himself into a little alcove in the shaded alleyway to wait for the boy to emerge. The man had watched him enter the store and had made sure to take note of which direction he'd come from so he would be ready and waiting when he headed out again. Dean strolled out of the store, his bow-legged gait taking him unknowingly in the direction of the waiting man. Suddenly, he stopped, feeling eyes watching him as his hunter senses kicked in. He shifted the bags to one hand, his other sliding behind him to the gun he kept tucked into the back of his low slung jeans under his over shirt. He never got the chance to retrieve it.

The man pounced at that moment, pinning his arm behind him as he gripped him tight, the other hand pressing the cloth down hard to his face. Dean dropped the bags, clawing at the hand around his face, swinging his elbow and kicking his legs back wildly, trying desperately to get free and breathe. The drugged cloth began working on him soon enough, though, making his struggles weaker by the second. The man had dragged him back into the dark alleyway, Dean still valiantly struggling to shake him off. He stumbled backwards, ramming the man into the brick wall, but he couldn't put enough power behind it to dislodge the man. All his father's training was trickling from his mind as the drug filled his system. His eyes kept closing against his will and it took longer and longer to get them to open back up. His body felt weak, he was barely able to lift his arm up to claw at the man, reaching behind him, desperately seeking a soft target like his eyes, something he could hurt more readily to get the man off of him, but it was all to no avail. The drug took over him, his eyes slid shut once and for all and rolled back into his head.

The man held the cloth on for a while longer, just to be sure. When the boy was most definitely out, he dipped down and slung his arm under his knees, lifting him quickly and speed-walking to his waiting van. He let the boy's legs down, holding him up against his chest as he slid the side door open. He tipped his limp body back, resting him on the floor of the van, grabbing the roll of duct tape from the hook just inside the door. He wrapped the boys legs tightly at the ankles and then again at the thighs then he slipped cuffs over one of his wrists, through the metal rung in the floor and then over the other. He wrapped the duct tape over the boy's chest and upper arms, pinning them down in place and finished up with by tying a soiled rag over the boys mouth, ensuring he couldn't call for help should he wake up mid-ride. Once he was sure the boy was bond securely, he allowed himself a few moments to study his new prize. The boy was beautiful. His delicate bone structure shone through on his slender face. Any traces of baby fat in his face were slipping away as he tipped further into manhood. He was almost angelic, his dark blonde hair showing natural hi-lights born of being out in the sun for extended periods of time. His moss green eyes had sparkled simultaneously with mischief and emotional depth, making him seem to be both much older than his years and eternally young. The man ran his fingers lightly over the hard-packed muscles he'd seen peeking from underneath the boy's clothes as he reached or stooped to retrieve items in the store. The moment the man had seen him he'd had to have him. The boy was far older then his usual tastes but his angelic face and beautiful form were too delicious to pass up. The man traced his thumb over the boy's full, slightly chapped lips, his mind filling with thoughts of taking those lips and everything else the boy had to offer. He sighed and pulled himself from his reverie, slipping into the cab and starting the engine, rolling out of the shadow-filled alleyway and into the mid-day street. He took his time, taking care not to call attention to himself as he set out for his hideout in the distant water-front warehouse. He had only set up shop there a few months ago and he never took his prizes from the city he lived in, not wanting to draw undue attention to himself. He already had several boys there, but he'd used them often enough that he was becoming bored with them. He would not keep them much longer, most likely. He'd probably kill them and leave them behind when he moved on again, but for now, he'd just take his time in breaking in his newest acquisition. He drove on to his destination in peace, listening to the radio as it softly warbled out what currently passed for rock and roll. No one paid him any mind at all, never realizing just who they were driving beside or what he had in the back of his van.

Sam had felt that something was wrong all day that day. The pit in his stomach had only grown bigger and reached deeper, feeling like an icy hand clutching hold of his heart. When the last bell rang, he bolted out of the school, putting his father's mandatory running routine to good use as he blazed home to the ramshackle second floor apartment they were currently staying in. He burst through the door, glaring around wildly, hoping against hope to see his brother and father both there, safe and sound. His eyes fell on their father, hunched over some old tome or another, researching for a hunt most likely. No sign of Dean though. Upon his youngest's explosion in the room, John craned his neck around to glare at him.

"Dammit Sam, what the hell do you think you're doing bustin' in here like that! You damn well know better!" he growled.

Sam rushed over to him, seeming to not have heard him. "Dad, where's Dean?" he panted out.

"Your brother's at the store getting food supplies. What the hell is the matter with you boy? Did you hear what I said? I asked what the hell you thought you were doing bustin' in here like that!"

Sam's eyes widened. "How long ago did he go to the store, dad?"

John glared at his youngest. "I asked you a question, boy! You damn well better answer it before I have to get up and teach you a lesson…"

Sam's chest heaved, his heart racing and he knew it had nothing to do with his run. His eyes went impossibly wide as the previous night's nightmare flashed in his mind. He realized he recognized the figure being taken now…

"Please, dad…please…how long ago did Dean go to the store?" Sam pleaded, his gut clenching and unclenching, hoping against hope that he wasn't right but having the sinking suspicion that he was already too late…

John studied his youngest fro a moment, his anger simmering down for the moment as he took in the blatant fear in his boy's eyes. "He left around 2, walked there…why?"

Sam's legs wobbled and his decent to the ground was stopped short by his father's strong hands.

"Sam? Sammy, hey, what's going on, son? What's gotten into you?" John asked worriedly.

Sam wasn't really seeing his father, the nightmare image kept playing over and over in his mind. He snapped back to reality when his father shook him hard, shouting out his name. He turned his owlish eyes to him, confused for a moment before panic racked him and he jumped up from the chair his father had settled him in. He bolted back out the door, his father calling after him. He ran on, quickly leaving his father behind as he ran toward the store. Dean had been gone nearly 2 hours. He knew his brother. His brother never took that long to buy supplies. Even if he got distracted by a pretty girl, he'd at least call, letting his family know he was delayed and he'd be back soon. He was absolutely adamant about things like that, his worry for his family making him extra vigilant of time frames, because it only took moments for things to go dangerously wrong and he loved his family too damn much not to worry constantly over them. Coming up on the store, Sam stopped cold. He recognized the shady alleyway. It was exactly as it had been in his dream. There on the sidewalk, just inside the alleyway were the dropped bags of groceries. Sam sunk to the ground, reaching a shaking hand toward the bags. He distantly heard the throaty growl of the Impala, but his attention was narrowly focused on the evidence of his kidnapped brother. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, shaking him, but he was too far gone to really feel it or to hear the familiar voice shouting at him. Sam was turned suddenly, his father's face wavering into view, his father's rough hands shaking him. He could see his father's lips moving, but he couldn't hear the words. Tears leaked from his eyes, knowing without a doubt that his brother was gone, taken, and he hadn't been able to stop it.

John shook his boy, trying desperately to get through, but his youngest wasn't really seeing him at all right now. He could see that this wasn't working, that he needed to switch tactics. He loosened his grip on his son's shoulder and lifted one hand to cup his face, making his voice take on a low, soothing tone, hoping Sammy would snap out of the trance he seemed to be in.

"Sammy? Son, can you hear me? Hey, dude, you gotta snap outta this and tell me what's wrong. You're kinda scarin' me here, son…" John said quietly.

Sam blinked owlishly at him, confused and out of it. His eyes slipped closed and he shuddered, his brow furling as he fought his way back to the surface. John kept up a litany of encouraging utterances, hoping Sam could use his voice to guide him back out of wherever he had slipped off to. Finally the young hunter's eyes snapped open and for the first time, they really saw him. Sam surged forward, his arms snaking around the older hunter's neck, crushing him close for a moment before pulling back and staring wordlessly at him. John was taken aback, entirely unused to physical affection from his son. Usually, Dean was the one to comfort the boy, the one he sought out for most everything. John was a bit disconcerted and stiffened slightly in the embrace. When Sam pulled back, he looked at him concerned and confused as he waited for Sam to steady himself.

"Hey, Sammy…you gave me a good scare there, son…what's the matter? What has you so damn upset, boy?" he said, keeping his voice low and calm, not wanting to set him off again.

Sam swallowed hard. He sucked in a deep breath and made himself tell his father. "Dean's gone!" he blurted out.

"What do ya mean, 'gone'?"

"He's been kidnapped by a man. A man driving an old van." Sam said quietly, unsure how much he should tell his father.

"What do you mean he's been kidnapped?" John growled.

Sam started at his father's raised voice, his eyes going wider with fear.

"Answer me, Sam!! What the hell do mean that he was kidnapped!?! Did you see him get kidnapped? What the hell is going on, dammit?"

Sam cringed back from his father, fearing his wrath. He tried to pull away, but was held firmly in place by his father's strong hands. His father shook him roughly, trying to force him to answer. He let out a sob, tears streaming harder down his face. He was terrified about what his father would say, knowing how he knew what he knew. It was Dean, though, that flashed through his mind, giving him strength enough to break down and tell his father the truth. His brother needed him and he might be able to help find him with the information he knew, so he made himself speak.

"I saw it…the man g-grabbed him from behind, a-and put a cloth over his…his mouth and nose and…after a few minutes h-he stopped fighting and the man shoved him in a old v-van…" Sam stammered out, too terrified to look away from his father.

"What!?! Why the hell didn't you call me!!! What the hell were you doing out of school!?!? Why didn't you have someone call they police or try to help your brother!!! Why didn't you help your brother? Ya think I'm teaching you all these defense moves for friggin' nothing? Jesus Christ, Sam!!!" John screamed, causing people to turn and glare at him. John glared back for a moment before turning back to his son.

Sam cringed back even further, hugging his arms around himself and rock slightly, his father's anger overwhelming to be around. His father shook him hard again, dragging him to his feet and pulling him into the shady alleyway, away from prying eyes. He felt his back connect hard with the brick wall, his father bearing down on him, getting uncomfortably close as he ignored the concept of personal space. Sam's knees went out and he collapsed to the ground unceremoniously, he pulled his knees up, pressing them into his chest, his arms wrapping protectively around them, holding them in tight. He was shaking, his father making him more afraid by the minute, the possibility that maybe his father would want to hunt him creeping quietly into the back of his mind.

"ANSWER ME!" John bellowed.

"I-I was i-in s-school…I-I wasn't h-here when i-it happened…" Sam stuttered out in a whisper.

That stopped John dead for a moment. "Wait, if you were in school, then how the hell do you know what happened to your brother? Explain yourself, dammit!" John's voiced went deadly low and quiet, the menace he was barely keeping reigned in was oozing out of him now in every word.

Sam swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. His father had never looked so out of control before. "I-I s-s-saw it…in a d-dream…" he whispered, desperately trying to keep his fear in check.

John was stunned silent for a moment. "What do you mean you saw it in a dream, Sam…you lying to me boy? You skip class? Cause right now, that would be the least of your problems…Just tell me the truth."

"Nnn-not lying, d-dad…I have n-nightmares…dreams…s-s-s-sometimes they c-come t-true…"

John stood up, turning away from his youngest son. He had been hearing rumors for years about his youngest boy…After he'd started researching Mary's death, he started becoming more and more convinced it was a demon that had caused it. He'd found similar incidents of other families, other children…Mysterious fires, the mother dying in the nursery under suspicious circumstances…he'd been told that all sorts of supernatural creatures were talking about his son and other children like him. John hadn't wanted to believe them, but if what Sam was saying was true, maybe they were right…John shook his head…he couldn't think about that right now. Right now, he had to figure out if Dean really was in danger. He scrubbed a rough hand over his face, working to calm himself. If he yelled and screamed and threatened Sam right now, he might send him back into himself and then Dean might really be lost for good. He needed information, now, when he might be able to put it to good use. He knelt back down in front of the boy again, his voice measured and calm.

"Sam? Are you saying you have visions, son?"

Sam gulped and then nodded slowly. His father sucked in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Sam watched him silently, fearfully.

"Son…I need you to tell me everything you saw, everything you know. If Dean really has been kidnapped, we need to find him. I need you to help me on this, can you do that?" John asked quietly.

Sam searched his father's face, afraid that he might see what he feared worst there: rejection…fear…disgust…but he didn't see any of that. He let himself calm just a little. His father needed his help to find his brother. Sam might be afraid, but he loved Dean more than the fear could override, so he pulled himself back together, swallowing down his fears for the time being and he told his father all he knew.

**TBC…..**

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**A/N:** Okie Dokie!!! I updated, and I have a good bead on the next couple of chapters and how I want them to go, so I will hopefully be able to update again soon!

**As always, please, please, PLEASE Read & Review!!!**

Also, I have updated the links to my Supernatural line of jewelry I have for sale on eBay, including replicas of the **Mary Winchester Hunter's Protection** bracelet (as seen in the episode **'In the Beginning'**) and the **Dean Winchester Skull** bracelet (worn from **season 2 to present**), and other Superntaural-themed bracelets!!! The links are now current so if you wish to see them, they are handily located on my **Profile**!!!!

I can also get ahold of replicas of the **Dean Winchester Protection Amulet**, if anybody is interested.

Thank you everybody for reading my work!! *hugs*


	3. Hand of God?

**Setting:** This story is a Pre-series AU. Teen!chesters in effect. Dean is 18 and Sam is 14.

**WARNING!: **This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual abuse as it remembered and/or worked on to help heal. This chapter contains graphic descriptions of sexual abuse and violence.

If you do not wish to read a story that contains rape/non-con, please move along now! Flamers will not be tolerated!

Shifts in POV will occur to give a better perspective of all involved. Hopefully, if I do this right, you will be able to follow them with ease.

**Disclaimer:**I do not own any of the recognizable characters, I merely borrowed them for the duration of this story.

* * *

**I'll Take Care of You**

**Chapter 3:**

**Hand of God?**

June 23rd was a day that would live on in Sam's mind for the rest of his life. Sunday, June 23rd, God, the God he'd prayed to since he could remember, finally answered his prayers. That fateful Sunday, Sam finally found his big brother. Months of desperation and despair had finally given way to the path that lead him to his big brother's side.

The months had crawled by with choking, putridly bile-raising consistency. His brother had been taken and the only thing that Sam could ever see was what the sick, sadistic bastard was doing to his brother. He rarely caught glimpses of the location of his captivity and even so, without a context to base them in, the images were useless. Their father had given Dean up for dead, as dead as the other missing boys that turned up after months and months gone, their bodies torn, ravaged, broken…John was now seemingly waiting for his eldest boy's body to turn up as well, waiting for the bitter closure it would bring so that maybe he would find the strength in himself to find the bastard who had torn away his very life, again, and put that terrible piece of hurt to rest.

Sam knew his father would never really be able to set aside his grief…not this time…If Mary's death had spurred him into action to fight the darkness, Dean's disappearance had dragged him back into it once again. Sam knew he tried to put up a brave front, that he tried to be strong for his youngest son, but the pain that shone through his every move, in every look in his eyes. They told the story that his mouth never knew how to shape into words. He was broken…utterly and completely broken and lost. If not for Sam, he knew his father would have chosen to simply lay down and die or drink and hunt himself to death. Drinking seemed to occupy as much time as hunting did for his father now and it burned like hellfire in his heart. Sam was losing his father now, too. He'd lost his mother, though he'd never really known her. He had lost his brother, in the most horrible, sickening way and now his father was slowly slipping away too. San had never known such desolation and despair. He could barely function anymore. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that his big brother was out there, somewhere and despite all the deplorable things that he had been through, his brother hadn't given up yet. That was what Sam held onto in the dead of night, when the pain he felt, amplified by both his father's pain and his brother's, felt so terribly overwhelming that he thought it would drown him in a tide of hopelessness and misery.

Sam's birthday had gone by without even the meager bit of pomp and celebration that Dean always managed to drum up for the occasion. Dean was gone and Sam felt his birthday felt less like than a celebration, rather, it was more a milestone, marking the absence of the most important person in his life. A person, who at the very moment, Sam knew, was suffering unspeakable horrors and was unable to simply let go and die, despite his desperate begging to the contrary. In the couple of weeks leading up to the culmination of Sam's most fervent wishes, he had felt his big brother slipping away. He knew Dean had at last been able to find a way to escape. It may have been only into a quiet, slivered place in his mind, but it was a freedom nonetheless. He tore loose from his body and retreated inside his mind, letting the man do what he would to his broken, ravaged body because he simply couldn't let himself feel it anymore.

Everyday that passed, Dean slipped further and further away in his mind. He would find happy memories of a time when he hadn't known pain or loss, like when his mother would let him help bake cookies, the warmth and the smell of sweetness and flour filling the cozy spaces of the kitchen and his heart. He'd travel back to the moment when his mommy and daddy told him he was gonna be a big brother. He remembered his mother patting her belly fondly as she watched him play in the front yard under her watchful eye. He would go back the first few days that the wriggling, shrilly screaming bundle was brought home and how his mother patiently rocked his little brother until he finally settled into contented silence. The memory he turned to most often, though, was when his father had placed him up in the old, battered arm chair that he loved, despite its sad state, and placed a cooing, squirming Sammy in his arms for the first time.

"_Easy easy, Dean…gotta be careful with him, son…that's it…doing real good there, dude._" His father had rumbled out to him softly. He had glowed with pride at his father's words, beaming up at him as his father looked down on him and his little brother with such unabashed love and joy. He had looked at the wide, gold-flecked hazel-green eyes peeking out of the blanket, at the mop of chocolate- colored hair sticking up in clumsy spikes and he had fallen in love with him at that very moment. His brother was his world, long before his father had given him the petrified, tightly wrapped bundle the night their mother had died and told him to take care of him and to get him to safety. He loved his brother unconditionally, his father too. The few people Dean let into his heart, he held onto with all the force and muster of a level 5 hurricane. No one, no thing would ever come between him and those that he loved, even if that meant that he had to sacrifice himself to save them in the process.

The 5 month anniversary of his brother's kidnapping was rapidly approaching and Sam had nothing to show for it. His father had given up and Sam had learned the hard way that telling his father that his brother was still alive, telling him even a few of the things about his brother's location or the man or mentioning Dean at all…that was a mistake he would not make again. He sure as hell wasn't going to tell him about the disgusting abuse Dean was suffering because he could barely stomach knowing about it himself and he didn't want to put that burden on his father when there was nothing either of them could do to stop it from happening right then. Mentioning his "abilities" in any way, shape or form served only to make his father pull away from him even more. Seeing the barely disguised fear and maybe even loathing in his father's face had been too much. He'd withdrawn inside himself, not talking, not eating unless forced too, training harder and longer then his weakening body could cope with. He was pushing himself right into an early grave and he knew it. Sam couldn't help but thinking sometimes that maybe it would be better if he did die, if he stopped burdening his father with his presence, which day by day seemed to repulse his father even more. John wouldn't look at him, barely spoke to him except to bark an order. He cried himself to sleep every night when he was safely away from the prying eyes and scornful harshness his father relegated to any show of "weakness" he saw in him.

Knowing his brother was close to slipping into oblivion, his father too, he tried so very hard to keep going. He kept going for them, trying to fill the shoes of his big brother, who had always somehow managed to keep their broken little family together and relatively sane…well, as sane as any Winchester was likely to be, anyways. He saw now what an incredibly big, terribly hard job it was and he didn't envy his brother the task. His brother truly was the most amazing, selfless, giving person he'd ever known and was ever likely to know. Sam's heart was shattered to know such a beautiful soul was being allowed to suffer such inconceivable pain and darkness as he knew Dean was. If Dean slipped away, Sam knew he himself wouldn't be long for the world either, and when he was gone, his father would fall too. Dean was the only thing keeping the Winchester men going, even at the slight remove as it was for his father. It was all because of Dean, always Dean.

That fateful Sunday morning, Sam and John were up and at it early in the morning, the pale hazy dawn still just breaking on the horizon. Sleep, it seemed, was a luxury and so neither Winchester was granted much in the way of rest anymore. Sam was riding shotgun next to his father, the place relegated to his big brother for a good portion of their lives, after he finally no longer had to keep a young Sammy busy and quiet in the back seat. Dean had always loved to be right there beside their dad, soaking up his presence and enjoying his company. Sam had never understood Dean's blind love and faith in their father, but, instead, he himself had always had to know too many things…to ask too many questions, both of which drove his father nuts. He preferred entertaining himself and, more often then not, brooding to himself in the back seat after yet another go round with his father. All that, though…that was before.

Sam kept his gaze shifted out the window, neither he nor his father looking at each other much any more. That day, Sam got a, by now, familiar tingle rattling through his bones. He sat up straighter, waiting for, hoping for it to repeat itself. Sure enough, it trilled over him again. Sam sat bolt-upright, scanning the view through his window, his father's, the front windshield, trying to suss out what his gift was trying to bring to his attention. All of a sudden, a familiar presence filled his mind as Sam looked toward the building near the water front. Sam slipped back inside his mind, his eyes wide, seeing yet not seeing. He felt the man's memories pull to the forefront. The van…he was looking out the windshield of the van. Sam watched the view as they traveled parallel paths, now so many months apart. The lighting was much different, brighter, a full-on sunny day. The hazy morning images and the sun-filled images overlapped and melded with each other. Sam watched as they drove the same streets. He saw the same windows, the same view.

Suddenly, their paths began to diverge. His father was moving away from the where the man had traveled. Sam panicked. He couldn't let his link be severed, not now that he could see, finally, where the man had been and hopefully still was…

"Dad, stop the car!" Sam bellowed out.

Sam was already unlatching his safety belt and peeling open the door before John even had the car fully stopped. Sam bolted down the street, his images shifting interchangeably with the man's as he latched on to the images and where they were leading him. It was more than that, though. He felt his brother's presence. His brother was, or had been near-by, he knew it. He faintly heard his father calling for him, but he was already rounding the corner and long gone before he could register the words. Sam pulled his gun from his waist band as he ran, removing the safety as well. Sam ran on, honing in on the building that was the home of his very worst nightmares. Finally, rounding the last corner, Sam found the entrance he knew he needed to take.

Silently, with all the stealth his brother and father had drilled into him for all these years, Sam crept inside and made his way to where he knew the lair would have been, hoping against hope it was still there. He could see light up ahead and Sam knew, without a shadow of a doubt, the man was still here after all. Rounding the final corner, what he saw stole his very breath away.

His big brother Dean was there, alive…hanging from shackles around his wrists and a chain slung over an iron cross beam there in the center of the room. The man was wrapped around his body from behind, thrusting into his brother with terrible force, one of his hands crawling sickeningly over Dean's bloodied and broken body. The other hand was wrapped around his brother's manhood, stroking him in time to his thrusts as he purred his putrid filth into his brother's ears. Sam couldn't hear it this time, not from this distance, but he'd heard some of it before, as he had unwillingly been witness to the man's molestations of his brother. Sam's stomach turned violently and he almost retched forcefully right then and there. He sucked in a deep, quiet breath, willing himself to get control. Within moments, Sam was back in control and he was no longer relegated to be forced to watch the horrible things happen to his brother. No, now, Sam could do something about it…

"Get the fuck off my brother, you sick fuck!" Sam bellowed out, raising his gun and stalking toward the man.

The man stilled for a moment, his hands slowing in their stroking of the boy's body and member, his face still pressed close to Dean's, as he had stopped mid-sentence in his twisted litany of words he purred into the boy's ear. He turned, studying the new arrival. Instantly, his cock pulsed at the site before him. The slender youth was breath-taking. A shaggy mop of chocolate brown hair tumbled over his head, falling over a stunning pair of shifting hazel, slightly cat-like eyes. Fine bone structure was evident even under the layer of puppy fat he was still shedding. Plump lips, currently pulled tight in a snarl, were so ripe for the taking. The man craved the boy, even more so now that he knew his relationship to the youth he was savoring at the moment. The man's face twisted in feral grin. He stroked hard again, hands trailing over the boy's body as he stabbed into the pliant flesh in his grasp. All the things he wanted to do to the dark-haired youth feeding his lusty conquering of the boy's brother's body.

"Never told daddy you had a baby bro…" he purred into his ear.

"Much as I have delighted in taking you, I think I'll try your brother on for size now, boy…" He growled, tugging himself free of the boy's body, turning to face the tender youth head-on, his hand finding his turgid flesh and stroking it languidly as he cocked his head to study him further.

"So…your brother, huh? Must be the older brother, I'm guessing…Hmmm…I enjoyed myself thoroughly with him…such a good little slave for daddy. Think I'll enjoy breaking you in just as much as I did him...Seems like you got the same kinda fire in you as your big brother. You'll be a pleasure to break, just as he was. Now…why don't you come over here, baby boy…let daddy have a taste of that sweetness…" he purred, leering at the boy as he started to stalk toward his intended prey.

Sam didn't hesitate, didn't even flinch as he pulled the trigger, firing at the man point blank and hitting him dead center in his gut. The man gasped, his leering charge halted as he stupidly looked down at the welling wound then collapsed to his knees.

"You shot me…you shot me, you little son of bitch!" He growled, already attempting to get to his feet and pursue the boy.

In a moment of surreal unreality, Sam saw where the man had collapsed. His position mirrored one Sam had seen repeatedly in his nightmares of Dean, chained to the floor as the man did unspeakable things to him. Dean's image shifted over the man's briefly, making Sam slightly dizzy, but the view righted itself quickly, the whole episode having happened in the span of a mere sec or two. Sam just snapped. Seeing the man in that way just made his already fragile grasp on reality flit away for the moment and he surged forward, catching the man in the groin just as he had made it to one knee and one raised leg. Sam lashed out, kicking viciously, the man puffing out a whoosh of air at the first blow and then it seemed he was unable to catch a breath thereafter. Sam rained blows and kicks down on the man, even as he tumbled over onto his side. One last blow to his face and he was out for the count. Sam stood panting and sweating, his rage-fueled energy dissipating rapidly, leaving him exhausted and weary. Sam was not one to take unnecessary chances, though, so he made himself move to the long steel table off to the side and retrieve the cuffs for the man's repertoire of implements he had used on his victims. Returning to the man's side, he warily snapped the cuff over one wrist, snaking the other through the loop on the ground and dragging the man over a little bit, he snapped the other cuff down tight on his remaining wrist then backed away, carefully gauging whether the man was a threat any longer. Deciding he was not, Sam drug himself to his brother's side at last.

Sam's breath hitched sharply upon seeing his big brother up close after so long of him inadvertently haunting Sam's nightmares. Dean was broken. Savagely, utterly broken. Sam's emotions spiked heavily and tears of sorrow and helplessness welled from his eyes as he looked upon the sad, gaunt face before him, the empty, sightless eyes boring into his mind and scarring him forever. The presence and life that had once been so abundant in his big brother was gone. A deep sob broke free as he lifted his hand shakily to his brother's face. With delicate care, he tapped Dean's cheek softly as he called to his brother in a soft, soothing voice.

"Dean…?"

Nothing. No surge of recognition, no answer, not even a flinch at his touch. Dean was trapped deep down in his own mind, in a heavily fortified place of his own creation. Sam knew he was in there, but his presence was waning steadily, dying by inches as he pulled away from his body and all the tortures he'd endured.

"Dean…" Sam breathed out, heart broken. He couldn't reach his brother. Not right now, but there was something he could do. Sam studied the manacles and chains holding his brother aloft and captive. He followed the path of the chain to a nearby pillar and set about levering the chain off its hold, dragging it back to Dean, slowly lowering his big brother's desecrated body to the ground. At some point, Sam felt another presence nearby and he snapped to attention, raising his gun, cocked and ready to fire at the perceived enemy before him. It took him a couple of long seconds to register that it was his father standing before him, but when he did, he lowered the gun, tucking it away and turned his attention back to Dean.

The next few minutes were a blur, his father barely registering as he fell to his knees and took in the state his eldest was in. Sam didn't care to look at him, didn't care to see him at all. His mournful reverie was only broken when he heard his father raging, a short distance away, though when he had moved, Sam knew not. His head snapped up in time to see their father preparing to kill the man.

"Dad…don't. He doesn't deserve a quick death" Sam said, or welll, something of the like, because really, he couldn't recall even a moment after it slipped from his lips. He saw his father, shaking with fury and sorrow, doing battle inside himself for a long moment before he lowered his gun.

Everything blurred again until John tried to get him to leave his big brother. Sam's attention snapped right back in that moment, ready to do battle with his father at the very suggestion that he ever let Dean out of his sight and grasp ever again. Finally, after his father toned down his approach, Sam had to admit that he was making sense. They needed to get out of there. Dean needed help and the other children needed to be released and taken care of as well. Nodding his acquiescence, Sam picked his father's pocket deftly and took off back to the car.

* * *

**A/N:**

I know, I know...I'm evil for leaving y'all hanging for so long (not to mention poor Dean and Sammy and John and Bobby...) without a new chappie...but...if you are all very good little boys and girls and you press that little green button and review my newest chapter, I might just have ANOTHER chappie after this one for ya to be put up today or tommorrow...

So, as always, please tell me what you think?

**Also, please let me know if you are interested in the line of Supernatural, Twilight, and Vampire Diaries jewelry items I make! **

Thank you so much for reading! Please, please, PLEASE Read and Review! ( I know begging is beneath a true author, but reviews are my crack so please provide me with my fix...;) )


	4. Tumbling Down the Rabbit Hole

**A/N: ****To all those who've favorited and alerted and most especially, reviewed: THANK YOU! and bless your hearts for feeding my addiction... ;) Seriously, though, thank you for pushing me to keep going as I tend to drift away from things after I've started them...(usually 'cause a new idea has popped up in my head and I start chasing after that and then another new idea pops up and...you get the idea...) Anyways, I am really invested in this story and I aim to finish it so keep after me, y'all! *hugs* Again, thank you!**

**Setting:** This story is a Pre-series AU. Teen!chesters in effect. Dean is 18 and Sam is 14.

**WARNING!:**This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual abuse as it remembered and/or worked on to help heal. This chapter contains graphic descriptions of the effects and physical, mental and emotional consequences of sexual abuse and violence.

As mentioned at the beginning and before each chapter thereafter: if you do not wish to read a story that contains topics such as rape/non-consensual sex, sexual, physical and/or emotional abuse, please move along now! Flamers will not be tolerated!

Shifts in POV will occur to give a better perspective of all involved. Hopefully, if I do this right, you will be able to follow them with ease.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the recognizable characters, I merely borrowed them for the duration of this story.

* * *

**I'll Take Care of You**

**Chapter 4:**

**Tumbling Down the Rabbit Hole…**

Sam was going on pure muscle memory, it seemed, when he pelted head-long for the car, bobbing and weaving between and around buildings without any real conscious thought as to where he was going. All Sam could concentrate on was the fact that he had found his big brother. All he cared for was the fact that he had Dean back and that that twisted bastard couldn't hurt him anymore. Sam knew his big brother was far from well, but he was determined to bring him back, Sam refused to believe that it was too late. Sam believed he had his gifts for a reason, that he was meant to help people, save people with them and who better to save then his own brother? Sam believed that he had seen his brother and known how to find him for a reason.

As soon as the big, black beast of a car loomed into view, Sam pushed himself as hard as he could to reach it, throwing himself inside it, bringing it roaring to life. Sam had never had the connection his father and brother had had with the car and as a result, "she", as his father and brother insisted on calling "her", protested his handling of "her". The dark behemoth protested harshly when he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, causing the car to fish-tail wildly. Sam eased his foot off the gas pedal a little and tried to flow with the car and follow it through the uncontrolled movements and protestations until he had "her" back under control. Sam guided the beast of a car back through the maze of buildings, taking the corners as fast as he dared, pushing himself and the car to the limits in an effort to get himself back to his big brother's side. Finally, the decrepit, all-too-familiar door swerved into view just as his father came prowling out of its gaping maw. Sam threw the car into park and leapt out, scrambling to open the rear door and throwing himself inside onto the back seat to help his father guide his broken, too-still big brother across the seat's span.

Sam shifted Dean gently, ever-mindful of his extensive injuries, in an effort to afford his brother the most comfort he could give him for the moment. As he was adjusting Dean's body in the seat and on his own lap, his father threw himself into the driver's seat and took off just ahead of the mewling sirens rapidly closing in on them. Once Dean was back in his arms, safe at long last, Sam's focus narrowed drastically until all he knew, all he saw was his big brother. Sam spoke quietly, soothingly to his brother, promising him he was safe now and not to worry because his little brother was finally going to get to pay him back for all the times he'd taken care of him and that he was going to take care of him now if it was the last thing he did. Sam kept up the unremitting torrent of soft words and encouragements as he tenderly stroked his brother's cheek and shoulder, the only body parts he could touch and not worry about causing his brother pain. Sam willed his brother love and feelings of safety and calm and he silently prayed to whatever God that may be listening that on some level, Dean could sense that he was free, that he'd been saved.

Miles and hours flew by in oblivion, Sam and his father each having been wrapped in their own worlds, not breaking the oppressive mood in the car by speaking to each other or even acknowledging each other's presence. Sam only had eyes for his brother and Dean wasn't present, not really anyways, in this world either. John had been sneaking glances at his boys, huddled close, almost intimately so, in the back seat as he prowled over the land toward help and, hopefully, salvation. John never let his eyes linger too long, finding that if he let his gaze remain on the devastating scene that he would be unable to continue and would likely have a total break down. He couldn't let himself break down, though…not now when his boys needed him more desperately then they ever had before in their lives. He knew he had to get Dean help, that he would surely lose his eldest boy if he didn't, well, that is if he hadn't already, if he didn't reach his destination sooner rather than later. He would lose the youngest Winchester soon after that and then there would be no point in keeping up the pretenses and going on living for him, either.

John knew that he'd already failed his eldest son hideously, and he couldn't bear to fail him again. He'd failed his baby boy, too. He'd been cruel and distant to his youngest son just when Sam had needed him the most and he'd ignored and down-right dismissed Sam when Sam had tried to tell him Dean was still alive. The truth was, John had been afraid for his son, afraid of what other hunter's might think of him or do to him if they knew he had his gifts or powers or whatever they were…The other, more shameful truth, was that John was a little bit afraid _**of**_Sam**.** John was terrified that what he'd been discovering and hearing over the years about the thing that had killed Mary, which he was more and more convinced was a particularly powerful and nasty demon, that it had gotten to Sam that night so long ago, altering him, tainting him somehow. John had heard of other's he had suspected that had had run-ins with the being, the demon…and that some of the things he'd learned about the other kids made John keep his son at arms-length and most definitely under his ever-watchful eye.

John could see how badly he'd hurt Sam with his callous, cold behavior toward him and yet he'd still kept doing it. He'd heaped on the pressure and cruel words and had taken his frustration, anguish, and heartbreak over losing Dean out on the only one left to him. John knew that he could never apologize adequately to either one of his sons. He could never redeem himself in his own eyes nor could he ever make it up to Dean for abandoning him and writing him off for dead. He knew in his heart Dean never would have stopped looking for him and most especially not Sammy if the positions had been reversed. Dean would have sought them until his dying day and probably beyond, never giving up hope that he'd find his family again. John had done a terrible disservice to Dean and he could never make that right, not ever…John could also never repair the damage and devastation he'd caused in his youngest child either. He'd nearly broken the boy, letting his darker emotions rule him and punishing Sam for having the audacity of living where he thought Dean had not.

John felt the lump in his throat grow in leaps and bounds as his gaze flickered yet again to his wrecked children. He felt hot, heavy tears rending pathways down his haggard face, his gaze flickering away from his children once more as the sight of their despairing condition made it unbearable to look on them once again. As his gaze drifted, John caught his own gaze briefly in the mirror before that, too, became unbearable to see. 'I'm so sorry, boys…I failed you so many times before and now I've failed you again when you needed me the most and I'll never forgive myself for that…just…please…please hold on a little longer…I'll find a way to fix this, I promise…' John thought, his own regret, shame, and despair all but overwhelming him. 'I just gotta get to Bobby's…I know he can help me make this right…he's never let me down yet…' John thought, trying to shore up the crumbling facade of his strength a little longer. 'I don't deserve them…not Bobby, not my boys…not any of them…' John thought, humbled.

John was startled out of his bitter reverie by the shrill sound of his cell phone ringing. John fumbled with the pocket it was in, almost dropping the phone in his haste to answer it. John growled when he finally managed to wrap his fingers around it and pull it out, shoving it harshly toward his ear.

"Dammit…" he muttered. "Hello?" he said gruffly into the infernal device.

"Hello to you, too Princess…" Bobby growled back, not appreciating John's tone in the least.

"Bobby? Uhm…sorry 'bout that…just had a little trouble gettin' the damn thing outta my pocket…" John sputtered, slightly embarrassed. John cringed slightly, mentally seeing Bobby roll his eyes.

"Where ya at, ya idjit?" Bobby said gruffly.

"'Bout an hour out still, why?" John said.

Bobby swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak around the lump that had hunkered down for the long haul in his throat. Bobby had called Silas, explaining to him what he knew of Dean's injuries. Silas had thought, given the circumstances, that it would be better if John came to him instead.

"John, Silas wants you to come to the clinic instead of him comin' out here. He says with …um, well…with people who've been…hurt…like Dean, there are tests and things that need to be done that he just can't do out here. Don't worry, he's closed his clinic for the day so no one will be sniffin' around so Dean will get the best care he can without worryin' 'bout privacy and such…I'll just give you the address and then meet you out there." Bobby said.

Much as John really wanted his friend there to support him and help him not break down on the spot, he felt like he was already asking too much of the man who he'd pushed out of his life and had deliberately hurt.

"Bobby…uh, you...don't need to come to the clinic…" John started to say before Bobby cut him off at the pass.

"Yes the hell I do, Winchester! Besides the fact that I owe you an ass kicking for a bucket load of reasons, I need to be there…those boys…they're the closet thing I have to sons…to the family I never got ta have…" Bobby trailed off, choking on the emotions clawing their way up inside his throat. He'd always planned on having a family, just didn't get the chance because some bastard of a demon decided to take his wife for a ride and he'd had no choice but to kill her. He hadn't known then, how to pull the demon out, but Goddamned if a day didn't go by that he didn't wish he knew then what he knew now so that he could've saved her and, just maybe himself, too. Everybody had there start in Hunting, damned if their tales weren't all horrible and deeply damaging like his was. Just look at John, for Christ's sake…

John swallowed hard, knowing Bobby was right, as usual. It was his own fault, really…He'd gotten into Hunting after Mary…had found Bobby just a few years after he'd had his own horrifying run in with a demon and had lost his wife as well. Bobby knew about the kind of things out there in the dark now and he'd taught John the ropes of Hunting. But John hadn't been alone, like him, no he'd been dragging his two hurting, devastated young boys around with him and Bobby and the boys had formed a bond immediately, Bobby becoming known fondly as 'Uncle Bobby' there after.

John breathed out a deep sigh, his throat working for a moment to find the words. "Ok, Bobby…I'm sorry, man… just…thanks, for everything…"

"Ur welcome, ya idgit…" Bobby said gruffly before rumbling out the directions to the clinic and hanging up.

Less than forty-five minutes later, John's lead foot having made its presence known once again, John was rolling down the street that to the clinic was on. John let out a relieved breath when he saw the familiar beat-up pick-up Bobby had kept to drive after it had been drug into his yard for salvage years ago. John noticed, though, that it had been retrofitted to be a wrecker now. The comforting presence of his old friend worked to calm him slightly, his overwrought heart steadying within his chest with the knowledge that someone who loved the boys nearly as much as he did was there to back him up. John swung the sleek black muscle car into the alcove designated for deliveries, as he'd been instructed to do and rang up Bobby on the phone again.

"We're here…" he said, then promptly hung up.

Moments later, Bobby swung the double doors open wide allowing two men with a gurney to slip through the opening. Both men wore scrubs of a nauseating, cheerfully bright green tone topped off with pristine white doctor's coats. John did a slight double take at the sight of the 2 men present, almost ready to chew Bobby out for bringing an unnecessary person in on Dean's condition. A moment after he went to open his mouth though, he snapped it shut as he realized the men were exact copies of each other.

'Twins…or a 'shifter maybe…' John mused then snorted internally at his own stupidity. 'Get it together, John…like Bobby would really **NOT** notice a shapeshifter…' John thought, shaking his head slightly in exasperation with himself. 'Maybe I'm gettin' a little **TOO** paranoid…'

The men rolled the gurney to the back door of the Impala, each waiting calmly and silently for John to make the first move. They'd been around Hunters long enough to know not to make any sudden moves. John gave them an approving nod then turned and opened the back door, crouching down so he could peer in to see his sons.

"Sammy…" he said softly, gently touching the boy's arm. Sam jolted slightly before turning to meet his father's eyes having forgotten there was anyone else but Dean in the world.

"Sammy, we're here, son. I'm gonna take Dean out now. We're gonna figure out what we need to do to make him better, ok?

Sam blinked at him owlishly for a long moment before the words finally sunk in.

"Ok, dad…" Sam murmured, turning back to Dean for one final gaze and giving Dean's shoulder a final squeeze.

John reached in and carefully lifted his eldest son's limp form from the seat and Sam's lap. As gently as he could, he placed Dean on the gurney. Sam swung his awkward limbs out of the car and together they moved on either side of Dean as he was wheeled inside. Bobby soon joined them as they crossed the threshold of the building, closing the doors behind them. He turned then, getting his first real look at the young man he'd always considered a son. Bobby sucked in a choked sob as he saw how savage the damage done to the boy really was.

"Ah, hell…Dean…" he wheezed, tears springing unbidden to his eyes. Bobby jerked his gaze to his friend, catching his eyes for a long moment, conveying without even having to say a word just how devastated he was that someone so good and pure could be hurt like Dean had been.

"Dammit, John…" he breathed out.

"I know, Bobby…I know…I failed him, Bobby. I failed both my boys…failed Mary, too. Promised her I'd take care of our sons…bang up job I'm doing, huh?" John said miserably. "Can't seem ta do right by anyone…" he mumbled dejectedly.

"John…now's not the time ta drown yurself in pity. These boys need you ta be strong if'n they're gonna get through this. Now you hold it together, ya idgit." Bobby growled.

A small, bitter smile tugged at John's lips. 'Good 'ol Bobby…' John thought, admitting that it was exactly the proverbial kick in the ass he needed right then. Inside, John steeled himself to face what was coming. He nodded his ascent to Bobby and they both returned their focus to the two most important people in their lives.

The men rolled the gurney into a wide examination area that was usually sectioned off with a curtain or two to make it into several smaller spaces. John and Bobby stepped back a little so the twins would have room to work on Dean, but Sam stayed doggedly next to his big brother.

"I believe introductions are in order, gents. John, Sam, this is Silas and Sean Severson. Si, Sean, this is John, Dean and Sammy Winchester." Bobby said.

"It's Sam." Sam spit out automatically in exasperation, though he was too worn out to put any real heat in his words.

Bobby quirked a brow briefly at Sam and John before raising his hands in a placating gesture. Silas and Sean each quirked an amused brow at Sam's teenaged petulance before simultaneously reaching out to shake John and Sam's hands. Both Hunters shook each one in turn.

"I'm Silas." said the man on the right.

"Thank you for agreeing to help my son." John said, deep sincerity in his words and tone.

"I do what I can for Hunters. Our uncle was a Hunter, so we know the kind of things you guys have to deal with and I do my part to aid you guys where I can. Sean here lives up in Chicago, so he's not normally around to help me out. We both lucked out that he's here visiting mother right now, though. I…don't really have very much experience with the sort of things Bobby said may have happened to your son…Sean works for Chicago Memorial, though, so unfortunately, he does…bigger city, nastier people walkin' around and all that…" Silas said.

John nodded, understanding all about the nastier elements that malingered in the bigger cities, not even including the rampant fuglies that they hunted.

John turned toward Sean. "Thank you for taking time away from your visit to help my boy." he said.

"Quite welcome, Mr. Winchester." Sean replied warmly.

"John, please…" John said.

Sean nodded. "John it is. How 'bout we get started with your son's examination, see if we can't at least make him comfortable for the time being. Bobby said that he had been kidnapped and held hostage for a significant period of time and that he had been subjected to a variety of abuse types during that time, is that correct?"

Silas had decided to hang back and let his brother take the lead on the case for now, seeing as how he had more experience in these sort of cases.

John's head dipped between his shoulders, his whole frame sagging and his eyes slipped closed as his stomached rolled over violently as he thought about all the possible things Dean had had to endure.

"Yes." John finally managed to murmur.

Sean and Silas shared a look, communicating silently and coming to a mutual agreement. They turned back to the Hunter's before them.

"That being the case, perhaps it would be best if Bobby took Sam out of the room for a while. Some of the examinations and tests can be…uncomfortable…to be present for and the results and information from them may be upsetting to hear…" Silas said.

Sam's head snapped toward the men and he glared at the twin doctors.

"I am _**not**_ leaving my brother…" he said, the menacing tone of his voice not lost on the men present.

"Sam…maybe you should wait outside…this really isn't something you should have to hear…" Bobby said quietly.

"No." Sam growled, clinging to his brother's side even more fiercely.

John and Bobby both opened their mouths to attempt to dissuade Sam once again but before they could speak, Sam spoke again.

"Besides…it wouldn't matter any way…" Sam said, lowering his eyes as he trailed off.

John and Bobby exchanged a meaning-laden look before turning back to Sam.

"Why wouldn't it matter, Sam?" John asked softly.

"Because…I already know exactly what happened to my brother…" Sam nearly whispered.

"How, Sam?" Bobby asked, chest already tightening with the feeling that he was not going to like the answer.

Sam was silent now, unwilling to share that final piece of news with every one present, let alone his father.

"Sam…" John growled when the boy refused to answer. John immediately regretted his harsh tone when he saw Sam visibly flinch. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down and try a softer approach.

"How, Sammy…?" John asked in what he hoped was a quiet and soothing tone.

"I saw…" he began, breaking off as he swallowed hard, trying to work up the nerve to tell the truth finally.

"Sammy? Please…what did you see…?" John asked again, the niggling feeling that he already knew the answer swirling through him.

Sam raised his tear-filled eyes, locking them with his father's for a long moment then turning them back to his big brother…his world. Tears began to fall as he finally let out the burden he'd been carrying alone for so long.

"Everything…" Sam whispered. "I saw everything…"

* * *

**A/N:**

I know, I know...I'm evil for leaving y'all hanging for so long (not to mention poor Dean and Sammy and John and Bobby...) without a new chappie...but, I was apartment hunting, prepping for a move, moving, cleaning and unpacking, planning and carrying out my sister's baby shower, had visiting family and a visiting friend and I was working overtime to make up for missed work from said move and visitors...so, yeah...been kinda busy lately...*sigh...* I really just wanted to work on my stories but damned if RL didn't get in the way. Oh well, not much to be done about it now. I have several chapters written, because I can write at work but can't type them out, unfortunately, so once I get those typed up, I should be making pretty good prgress on this story! Anyhoo, tudaloo!

So, as always, please tell me what you think?

**Also, please let me know if you are interested in the line of Supernatural, Twilight, and Vampire Diaries jewelry items and collectibles I make! **

Thank you so much for reading! Please, please, PLEASE Read and Review! ( I know begging is beneath a true author, but reviews are my crack so please provide me with my fix...;) )


	5. Somebody Has to Pay the Price

**Setting:** This story is a Pre-series AU. Teen!chesters in effect. Dean is 18 and Sam is 14.

**WARNING!:**This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual abuse as it remembered and/or worked on to help heal. This chapter contains graphic descriptions of the effects and physical, mental and emotional consequences of sexual abuse and violence.

As mentioned at the beginning and before each chapter thereafter: if you do not wish to read a story that contains topics such as rape/non-consensual sex, sexual, physical and/or emotional abuse, please move along now! Flamers will not be tolerated!

Shifts in POV will occur to give a better perspective of all involved. Hopefully, if I do this right, you will be able to follow them with ease.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the recognizable characters, I merely borrowed them for the duration of this story.

* * *

**I'll Take Care of You**

**Chapter 5:**

**Somebody Has To Pay the Price…**

John closed his eyes at the terrible confirmation of his suspicions. He sucked in a choked, bitter sob as a desolate "Oh God…" slipped out in a whisper. John realized that not only had Dean been raped and savagely abused, but Sammy had been witness to all of it…had seen the most horrifying and depraved things happen to the person that meant the most, the person he loved the most in the world. _**'Sammy was pretty much raped by that bastard, too…' **_John thought bitterly.

"Goddamit!" John bellowed in helpless rage, his fists lashing out at the wall. Sam jumped, his eyes going impossibly wide and filling with abject fear. Finally spent, John leaned on the wall, forehead pressed to the damaged plaster as he worked to get himself under control. When he finally turned around to face Sam, he saw the sheer terror in his youngest's eyes and knew unequivocally Sam had interpreted his violent outburst as being directed toward him. _**'Shit...'**_ he thought. Tentatively, John reached out a hand to Sam. Sam shrank away, shaking and panting for breath and let out a fearful whimper. John's heart pounded heavily, his sorrow and heartbreak surging harshly inside him at the fact that he had put that level of fear into his own child. John was dangerously close to being ill from all the shame and regret rampaging through his body right then. John moved very slowly, still reaching out a slightly shaky hand to his youngest son.

"Sammy?" he breathed out. He prayed he could reach his son before Sam panicked any further. He also prayed that all the damage he'd already done, the cruelty and hurt he'd heaped upon Sam could be forgiven someday. More than anything, though right then, John needed to touch son. He desperately wanted to be for Sam what he should have been all along: his father. He wanted to comfort his boy, make him feel safe and let Sam know that he would take care of everything and that Sam wouldn't ever have to be afraid like this ever again if he could help it, especially not of him.

John was so close to reaching Sam he could almost taste it. Sam's labored breathing was far too rapid and shallow and he was starting to tilt woozily as much-needed oxygen was denied to his brain. Just as John was about to reach him, his panic attack escalated until he was about to tumble forward and pass out. John barely managed to catch his baby boy before he face-planted on the tile floor. He sat down, pulling the boy to his chest, cradling him close.

"Sammy…hey…gotta calm down and breathe, dude…come on now…I'm not gonna hurt you, baby boy…I promise…I'm so sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry. I'm not gonna hurt you, ok?" John murmured into his boy's ear soothingly. He began rubbing soothing circles into the boy's back as he kept up his litany of words.

"Please, son. Stay will me. Breathe with me, nice and slow, Sammy…" he soothed. He knew he hadn't used that tone of voice for his boys for a very long time but he hoped it would work now on his youngest son. Tears began slipping down his cheeks slowly as he gently rocked his terrified son. He let his eyes slip closed and he hugged the boy closer to his chest, his hand still stroking soothing circles up and down his baby boy's back. John realized at that moment just how terribly thin Sam had gotten, too. He could feel hard-packed muscles, yes, and he knew Sam had been training almost brutally hard in the past five months, but he'd never noticed just how thin Sam had become. All of the baby fat he'd been carrying had been burned away, apparently before John's very eyes and he hadn't even noticed. John also knew that Sam hadn't been eating right either. He himself hadn't been around much, having pulled himself away from his youngest son, punishing him for Dean's profoundly felt absence. When he was around, though, he had seen how little Sam ate, often not eating unless he was forced to eat.

John could see now just how devastating a toll Dean's kidnapping and his own father's abandonment had taken on the boy. Adding to both those things was the horrific fact that Sam been an unwilling witness to the incredible depravity visited upon his best friend and mentor: his big brother Dean. Any one of those factors alone would have eaten away at a sensitive soul, such as Sammy, but all them combined had to have hit the boy like speeding freight train that, after hitting him, just continued to drag him along beneath the weight of it, scraping and ripping away at him piece by piece until there would be nothing left at all. John thanked god that Sam, though sensitive and emotion-driven, had been strong enough to hold on as long as he had under the crushing weight he was carrying inside of him. A lesser man would have broke long ago under the strain, but Sam had held on and hadn't given into the despair and pain he must have felt and for that, John was truly thankful and completely in awe. He was utterly humbled by his tragically beautiful and strong son.

"Shhhh, Sammy. It's ok baby boy. It's ok. Me and Dean are right here, ok? You just breathe for me, ok? Just breathe. Breathe just like me, come on Sammy, you can do it. Nice and slow…in…and out…and in…and out…just like you feel me doing it, ok? Please?" John murmured, his voice steady and soothing, though he felt anything but that at the moment.

Finally, he felt a subtle shift in Sam's breathing. Then the next breath came and the boy was straining still but he took it deeper and held it slightly longer then the last, and then again with the next and the next and John cried out with relief and joy in his mind over his boy's triumph.

"That's it Sammy, just like that. Doing so good, baby boy…so good. I'm so proud of you, Sammy. Just keep trying, keep breathin' like that for me. Nice and slow, in and out." John closed his eyes once again to steady himself, making sure to keep his breathing just like he wanted Sammy's to be. When he opened his eyes again, he gently reached up to stroke away the tears of pain, fear, and panic that had leaked from Sammy's eyes. John's other hand was still holding the boy close, stroking and rubbing soothingly over Sam's back and shoulders as Sam fought his own body to come back down from his attack.

Panic attacks. God…yet another thing John hadn't known his son had to deal with. And could there be a more horrible way to find out about them then triggering one in the poor boy, his own youngest son? John highly doubted it. After all that Sammy had been through, and John almost kills the boy by scaring him to death. No child should ever have to feel that afraid of their own father. If John hadn't been a shitty father before, now he was worse than the scum on the bottom of the devil's shoe. _**'God…if you're really out there, I promise to fix this, to do better for my boys if you just give me the chance. The boys deserve so much better then me and I know I don't deserve them, but I'll do anything…anything to have the chance to make it right, to do right by them. Just…please…please don't let it be too little, too late…'**_ John begged silently of a god he wasn't sure existed.

As Sam's breaths became steadier and steadier and his heartbeat slowed to a more normal rhythm, everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, Sam came around a bit, still a bit dazed but coherent enough to answer simple questions. The boy's voice was timid and rough but _**there**_ so it was another huge weight lifted off all their chests that the attack, though severe, didn't seem to have made any lingering issues arise. The doctors were able to convince Sam to let them examine him, just to be on the safe side, as they put it.

"Ok, your heart and lungs sound a little strained so I'd like to put an nebulizer on you for a few minutes, help ease the breathing a little bit more. I'd also like to give you a shot of a muscle relaxer and pain medicine combo. It will help your body, which I'm sure is sore from what happened, ease some of the tension it's holding." Silas said.

"I'll do the mask, but I don't wanna do the shot. I don't wanna be knocked out. I wanna be with Dean." Sam husked out.

"Sam, both the medicines would be very mild, I promise. They won't make you loopy or put you under."

"You swear? On-a-stack-of-bibles swear?" Sam asked.

Silas's lips quirked up in a small grin. The boy was an enigma, seemingly equal parts of an old soul and a terribly young innocence.

"I pinky-swear."

"Ok, I'll take it, then. I get knocked out, though, the first thing I do when I wake up is kick your ass…" Sam said, a glare directed at the doctor. Silas burst out in a small chuckle, his grin growing even wider on his lips.

"Fair enough." Silas said, grin still firmly in place. Silas administered the medicine and strapped Sam into the mask, then looked up to catch John's eye and gesture toward the hallway. John gave a small nod that he understood.

"Hey, Sammy. I'm just gonna step out in the hall for a minute and catch my breath, too. Ok? Bobby will be here and if you need something, just let him know and he'll get me." John said quietly, his palm resting lightly but firmly on his boy's forearm.

"Ok." Sam said meekly, still a little twitchy at John's touch.

John and Silas stepped out into the hall. Silas waited as John let out a deep, sighing breath. Finally, the men were ready to speak.

"Wanna tell me what we're out here for, doc?" John said gruffly.

"Well, firstly, even though he had a moderate to severe panic attack, Sam doesn't appear to have any lingering damage or problems, even with the oxygen depravation he suffered. He'll most likely be a little sore from his muscles tensing so much and he'll probably be pretty tired from the drop his system will go through now that adrenaline isn't pumping out in huge quantities into his system. He is, however, mildly dehydrated and moderately malnourished. Has he been eating differently in the past few months?" Silas asked gently.

John folded in on himself slightly in shame. "Yeah…I guess he hasn't really eaten properly since…since Dean…uh…you know, and, um…I…I hadn't realized it had gotten so bad until just then when I…uh…held him…" John said, gesturing vaguely to the exam room.

Silas nodded. "Stress and emotional strain can cause appetite loss…We'll get him hydrated and later, we'll work out a diet plan to get him back up to a decent weight."

"Thank you." John said quietly, genuine gratitude permeating his words and voice.

Silas gave a nod of acceptance then a slight jerk of his head toward the exam room. "Shall we, then? I believe it's about time we had a look at your oldest boy."

"Yes, thank you." John said, turning and holding the door open for the doctor before following him in. As soon as they had entered, Sean gestured toward a chair over near Sam's bed, next to Bobby and well out of the way but within view of Dean's bed.

"Have a seat, John. You look like you'd topple over if a stiff wind hit you right now…" Sean said, his tone genial but also firm, brooking no arguments. John settled in next to Bobby and Sam heavily as Silas and Sean pushed and drug various machines and supplies closer to Dean's bed. Finally, as all that they needed had been gathered, the doctors got started on their task at hand.

* * *

**A/N:** Ok, so, I'm kinda getting paid to write this right now, in a roundabout way...See, I'm sitting at work and using my laptop to type up my story and publish it for y'all! Nifty, huh? Anyhoo...so, I know this chapter and the next are kind of short but, I hope the fact that there is more than one will make up for the long wait you've had to suffer...Also, I'm working on typing up another chapter of this so I might well be posting **3** new chapters tonight! How about that!

I am not a doctor or a therapist so even though this story is done to the best of my knowledge and research capabilities, there may be errors. If so, please feel free to let me know and I will fix them. I do prefer to be as accurate as possible in my stories, Thanks!

**As always, please, please, PLEASE Read & Review!**

Also, the links to my Supernatural line of jewelry, which I sell on eBay, link to images for the pieces to give you an idea of what I have. To get the link to the current wares for sale on eBay, ask me or look for MidniteX13 on eBay and it should bring me up for you. My line includes replicas of the **Mary Winchester Hunter's Protection** bracelet (as seen in the episode **'In the Beginning'**) and the **Dean Winchester Skull** bracelet (worn from **season 2 to present**), and other Superntaural-themed bracelets! The links are handily located on my **Profile**!

I can also get ahold of replicas of the **Dean Winchester Protection Amulet**, if anybody is interested.

Thank you everybody for reading my work! *hugs*


	6. The Waiting Game

**Setting:** This story is a Pre-series AU. Teen!chesters in effect. Dean is 18 and Sam is 14.

**WARNING!:**This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual abuse as it remembered and/or worked on to help heal. This chapter contains graphic descriptions of the effects and physical, mental and emotional consequences of sexual abuse and violence.

As mentioned at the beginning and before each chapter thereafter: if you do not wish to read a story that contains topics such as rape/non-consensual sex, sexual, physical and/or emotional abuse, please move along now! Flamers will not be tolerated!

Shifts in POV will occur to give a better perspective of all involved. Hopefully, if I do this right, you will be able to follow them with ease.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the recognizable characters, I merely borrowed them for the duration of this story.

* * *

**I'll Take Care of You**

**Chapter 6:**

**The Waiting Game**

The weather had taken a turn for the worse, the gloom and menacing darkness that loomed all around them reflected the mood of all the men surrounding the broken body of the boy, the man they loved dearly. One of their own, one of their _**family **_had suffered from an evil entirely different then what they usually dealt with, putting them all at a loss with what to do or how to help the boy…the man…recover or whether or not he even could recover from something like this. Dean was strong, no doubt about that. Dean was the strongest person any of them had ever known, had been since he was just a little boy. After all that had happened, with how everything had started, he'd had to be. But…even the strong have a breaking point, and right then, Dean looked utterly and completely broken. Sam didn't look much better and John and Bobby were just shy of a major breakdown themselves as well. 'Course, that's what happens when someone you love is savagely torn apart, inside and out.

Dean was like a son to Bobby, a son he'd never had the chance to have with his late, beloved wife. And of course Dean _**was **_John's son, though he'd been that in name only for a very long time because John had pushed Dean away and then held him at arm's length ever since Mary had died. He had basically relegated his eldest boy to being nothing more then a soldier in his command and a caregiver to his youngest son.

John's heart was clenched so tight in his chest just thinking about all he'd done to his son. The boy had lost his mother, _**seen**_ her dying horribly on the ceiling of his baby brother's room and what had John done? He'd made Dean raise his little brother, forced him to become a father and a mother to the child in addition to being his brother. Dean had become a nanny to the baby when he himself was just a baby. Not only that, but John had ripped himself away from the child, he, the sole remaining parent, had mentally if not physically walked away from the boy when Dean had been the most vulnerable and terrified the child had ever been in his life. It was a time when he had needed his father the most and John was nowhere to be found. John had long been watching his boys grow up, catching their lives in sips and gasps because he was gone from them so often.

When Dean had hit puberty, he had rebelled somewhat, in all the traditional ways: drinking, staying out late, skirt-chasing… But even while rebelling, Dean never let himself _**really**_ let go because he had responsibilities, he had a child to raise and care for and a father to care for as well. It was a task that Dean took on with the utmost seriousness and diligence. John had never told Dean, but he was simultaneously deeply proud of the man his eldest son had become and deeply saddened that he had had no hand in the transformation whatsoever. John saw as well that despite everything that had happened, that Dean was a pure soul. He was selfless, generous, bright, loyal almost to a fault and, most importantly, not driven by revenge. Dean did the job, not only because his father had forced him into it at such a young age that he didn't know any better but, also because it was the right thing, the _**just**_ thing to do. Dean fought with all of his body and soul to stop the darkness and evil that ravaged the world from ever doing to others what had been done to his own family. Dean was just the best of them all, really, a shinning example of so many lessons so many people simply fail to grasp.

During the past couple of years, John had come to realize what a disservice he had done his son. He'd always meant to tell Dean so, to apologize to him and maybe ask his forgiveness, too. John feared now that he'd missed his chance. He feared that he'd never be able to sit the boy down and tell him so now.

John was overwhelmed with shame and sadness. He'd made a promise to Mary that he'd take care of their sons. He'd been a less than magnificent husband and father before Mary had died, he knew that, but he'd promised his beloved wife that he'd raise them like they deserved to be after Mary had been taken from them. He'd failed. John knew that he had failed epically. He'd failed Mary. He'd failed his sons. He'd failed himself, too. Worst of all, John knew that despite all he'd done to push Dean away, his son still idolized him and counted on him to make things better. Problem was, John didn't know how to "make it better" this time.

As John sat waiting, he tried to gather all the shattered pieces of himself together, knowing he had to try, no matter what happened, because he couldn't afford to fail again. He had to do this. He had to bring Dean, and indeed, all of his broken little family, back from the brink. Dean used to be the one that did that, time and again, but now it fell to him to do it and John was determined not to fail in that task. This was Dean and for that reason alone, _**failure was not an option. **_

* * *

**A/N:** So, I know this chapter is kind of short but, I hope the fact that I posted up more than one will make up for the long wait you've had to suffer...Also, I'm working on typing up another chapter of this so I might well be posting **3** new chapters tonight! Awesome, right? I am really trying to make sure I get this as caught up as I can while I have the opportunity so we'll see how far I get with the typing...

I am not a doctor or a therapist so even though this story is done to the best of my knowledge and research capabilities, there may be errors. If so, please feel free to let me know and I will fix them. I do prefer to be as accurate as possible in my stories, Thanks!

**As always, please, please, PLEASE Read & Review!**

Also, the links to my Supernatural line of jewelry, which I sell on eBay, link to images for the pieces to give you an idea of what I have. To get the link to the current wares for sale on eBay, ask me or look for MidniteX13 on eBay and it should bring me up for you. My line includes replicas of the **Mary Winchester Hunter's Protection** bracelet (as seen in the episode **'In the Beginning'**) and the **Dean Winchester Skull** bracelet (worn from **season 2 to present**), and other Superntaural-themed bracelets! The links are handily located on my **Profile**!

I can also get ahold of replicas of the **Dean Winchester Protection Amulet**, if anybody is interested.


	7. Laid Bare

**Setting:** This story is a Pre-series AU. Teen!chesters in effect. Dean is 18 and Sam is 14.

**WARNING!:**This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual abuse as it remembered and/or worked on to help heal. This chapter contains graphic descriptions of the effects and physical, mental and emotional consequences of sexual abuse and violence.

As mentioned at the beginning and before each chapter thereafter: if you do not wish to read a story that contains topics such as rape/non-consensual sex, sexual, physical and/or emotional abuse, please move along now! Flamers will not be tolerated!

Shifts in POV will occur to give a better perspective of all involved. Hopefully, if I do this right, you will be able to follow them with ease.

**WARNING! Graphic details and descriptions about injuries caused by rape and abuse in this chapter! Reader be advised!**

Lots of medical-type things in this chapter. I am not a doctor, I have simply written what my own research has yielded to me for medical information. If you feel there are errors, please let me know so I can fix them as I prefer to be as accurate as possible.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the recognizable characters, I merely borrowed them for the duration of this story.

* * *

**I'll Take Care of You**

**Chapter 7:**

**Laid Bare**

The doctors had been treating and cleaning and testing and assessing Dean for hours now. They had had no choice, after getting their first look at Dean, but to start with a sponge bath. Sam had commandeered that responsibility for himself, the look in his eyes practically daring anyone to refuse him. Silas and Sean had declared that they would be unable to begin the assessment of Dean until it Dean was somewhat cleaned up because all of the grime and dried blood was effectively masking his various injuries from their view. Once Dean had been cleaned, with the utmost care and patience of course, by Sam, the twins had set upon him. Silas had handled the more standard tests and injury care while Sean, the unfortunately all-too-experienced doctor from the big city, dealt with the more devastating injuries and assessments. Scopes, tubes, needles, bandages, medicines…the procedures and tests were seemingly endless. All through it, though, Sam was at Dean's side. Despite Sam's obvious weariness, he'd insisted on knowing everything that was being done to his brother. He insisted on being told how to care for each wound, how to replace feeding tubes, I.V.'s, etc…every single thing he would need to do for his brother to ensure he would heal properly. Sam filed it all away in that keen brain of his, not a scrap of information to be lost or forgotten when it came to taking care of his brother. For 14 years, Dean had taken care of him and now that Sam had the chance to repay him he was adamant that he would not fail his big brother with poor care.

By the time Silas and Sean were done, they'd run out of room on their assessment forms and had had to continue on other pieces of paper. Silas had gone to gather supplies that they would need for Dean's care. Despite the ridiculously large box of supplies he was filling, the Winchesters and Bobby would need more, sooner rather than later. Silas could only safely prescribe some of the items. He wrote scripts for medicines Dean would need, but Dean would need more than he could provide so Bobby set about calling his contacts, one of whom was a medical supplier out of Canada, to set up a steady order of supplies to be delivered to his house where Dean and the rest of the Winchesters would be staying while Dean recuperated. Bobby had already arranged for a double-wide mobile home he'd gotten for a steal from and old hunting buddy to be transferred to his property and be set up and secured near the main house. He would set up a ramp for wheel-chair access to both properties later. He would make sure the place was properly warded and protected once it was in place and acquire furniture and household supplies for it so it would be a viable living space for the Winchesters. In the meantime, he arranged for a lovely woman named Mona, the widow of a hunter he'd known and a long-time friend, to come in and spruce up the house so that it would be safe to bring Dean home to. He'd had Mona bring in extra food stuffs to accommodate his guests for their stay as well.

John had been paying attention to the calls Bobby made on their behalf, silently thanking whoever had seen fit to allow John to have such a good friend in his life. He sure as hell didn't deserve it, but he was damn grateful just the same. John had also been paying attention to the doctors as the treated Dean, filing away the information they gave, just like Sam, even though he doubted he'd get the chance to use it much if Sam had his way. Sam, he knew, was a lot more like him then either one of them cared to admit and John could see without a doubt that Sam was determined to take care of his brother. John backed off and let him, for now…but he was just as determined to be a part of Dean's recovery as well.

Once all the supplies had been gathered, the twins sat down with the family, who had waiting on pins and needles for the conclusion the doctors had come to for the young hunter. Starting with the basic ailments and working toward the more difficult and devastating ones, Silas and Sean laid it all out for them. Sean gave Silas a meaning-laden look, and a slight nod tipped in his direction from his brother gave him acknowledgement and permission to take the lead on this part in deference to Silas's past dealings with Bobby. When they both returned their attention to the ragged family before them, they delivered the prognosis of the condition of the young hunter they'd had to treat that day.

"To be blunt, gentlemen…Dean is a mess. He's malnourished and dehydrated. His muscles have begun to atrophy and his body has started to breakdown the muscle tissue to consume it to stave off complete starvation. Lack of natural movement as well as being bound for extended periods of time has added to this. Dean's wounds suggest an extensive amount of time being bound and this has also weakened his joints and bones in those areas rather significantly. His immunity is shot. He's having little success fighting off a pretty decent infection, which is also causing a moderate fever. His skin is irritated from lack of hygienic conditions and there are sores present from lack of movement and living in non-hygienic conditions as well. He has an abundance of burns, cuts, abrasions and punctures. There is evidence of previous similar injuries which are already in various stages of healing and/or scarring. Dean's left shoulder was dislocated, however we were able return it to its socket, but there is significant inflammation and there is a very good chance there with be permanent scar tissue there. His left wrist is broken, we've got a cast on it to let it heal properly. We've gotten him started on IV's of antibiotics, fluids, and nutrient supplements as well as medicines for pain and muscles relaxants. We've cleaned and dressed the deeper wounds, some of which required stitches and we applied topical treatments for the abrasions and the skin irritation. All of these things are relatively minor and are easily addressed. The other injuries…while they're not critical or life-threatening, they will require much more significant treatment and unfortunately, we can only do so much for them." Silas said, breaking off for a moment to let his words sink in and to prepare himself to relay the worst of the diagnosis. He looked to his brother again briefly, drawing strength from his steady presence.

Silas had never wanted to have to deal with these sort of cases. It was one of the reasons he had chosen to have his practice in a small town as opposed to working for a hospital or clinic in a big city. Silas took a deep breath, steadying himself and focusing his gaze back to the small, shattered family before him once again.

"Dean has many injuries you'd mostly likely expect to see in abuse cases, however, because the perpetrator of said injuries apparently felt no need to hide his crimes, the damage is more extensive. Dean has scarring in the opening to his throat and esophagus. There's damage to the soft tissue of the throat and larynx as well as bruising and scarring around the outside of his throat, indicating repeated, sustained strangulation. When I sent the scope down his throat, his gag reflex was barely in evidence. He has abrasions and scarring around his mouth suggesting the flesh was strained to the point of tearing multiple times. Wounds of this nature can indicate oral sexual abuse. Dean also has extensive ano-rectal scarring as well. I'm glad to note that there was no prolapse of tissue of the anal passage, despite the abuse Dean's endured. However, the extent of abuse and the damage in evidence suggests that in addition to penile penetration and possibly oral or digital penetration, there was most likely forcible penetration with foreign objects as well. Unfortunately, it may have caused permanent damage to the musculature of the sphincter which may result in leakage or even incontinence. The muscles there are very delicate and susceptible to damage. It may never heal properly and surgery may or may not be able to fix it. That is something you'll have to discuss with a specialist, I'm afraid. Dean also has bruising and burns around his penis and the scrotal area, indicating possible clamping or pinching mechanisms and electric shock being administered to the area. It also appears that some sort of branding implement and/or cigarettes may have been used to make wounds in that region as well. There is deep bruising on the genital region as well, suggesting some sort of binding or constriction being used repeatedly there." Silas paused in the telling of the prognosis for a moment to take a much-needed, calming breath.

The family looked even more wrecked then before, dangerously so in some cases. Tears were present on all the faces before him as they absorbed the massive chunk of devastating news about their loved one. They all looked fairly nauseous and Silas made sure to keep careful watch of them to be ready in case any of them actually became ill. Sam broke his heart, though, at that moment. He looked as ill as the rest of them, but he had a terrible air of resignation about him as well because, Silas guessed, if he really was psychically gifted and he really had seen what had been happening to his brother, then none of the injuries held any shock to him because he had seen them happening and knew just how much pain and humiliation and fear had gone into making each of those wounds. Silas shook his head sadly with a deep sigh. He couldn't imagine having that knowledge inside, twisting you and up and eating away at you because you were too scared to tell anyone what was happening. _**'God, this whole family is gonna need a lotta therapy…'**_ he thought. Taking a few more moments for himself, finally he took a deep breath and continued.

"While the physical wounds will, mostly, heal over a relatively short period of time, the long-term affects of a situation like this can be highly varied and far-reaching. We won't know all the aspects of the situation unless or until Dean returns to a reactive, conscious state…if he ever does…"

"He will!" all three men snapped simultaneously.

Silas sagged slightly, knowing he was going to have to be a little harsh with these men. They needed to know and accept the truth of the situation and not just the outcome they hoped for.

"Gentlemen…I need to be brutally honest with you. Dean is in an apparent catatonic state. Such states are, often, a coping mechanism for traumas the body and mind are unable or unwilling to deal with. While in this state, Dean will either require the use of adult disposable undergarments or the installation of a catheter and a colostomy bag. He will require daily sponge baths as well as more thorough cleanings frequently. He may require nutritional supplement IV's as well as hand-feeding of a soft foods diet. His eyes will need to be moistened with drops several times a day and the lids will need to be taped shut a minimum of 6-8 hours a day to stave off overall dryness of the eyes. He will require extensive physical therapy to rebuild musculature and joint strength. If, and I do mean if, because the amount of trauma Dean has sustained is extensive and pervasive, _**if**_ Dean comes out of the catatonia, he will most likely have intestinal problems, perpetual weakness of his joints and muscles, and a weak immune system." Silas said, pausing again to just breathe for a moment before continuing.

"_**If**_ Dean comes out of the catatonia, we may have to contend with certain possibilities, things such as partial or full blindness due to the eye strain from strangulation and the irritation of staying open during his catatonic state. There may also be damage to his brain due to the repeated lack of blood flow that occurred during the strangulation acts as well. He may have an speech impairment from the damage to the esophagus and larynx. He may suffer more frequent breaks in his bones because being bound for long periods of time can lead to calcification of the joints and bones making them more brittle and weak. If, by some miracle, none of these potential issues arise, Dean will still require extensive therapy and rape/abuse counseling to help him deal with all that's happened to him. Severe depression, suicidal ideations/attempts, substance abuse/ addiction as a coping mechanism, nightmares/night terrors, insomnia, agoraphobia, panic attacks, anxiety issues, PTSD…all of these things are going to be very real possibilities. Dean may eventually learn to manage and cope with what's happened, but he will never be the person he used to be. Someday, he may be able to regain some semblance of a normal life, but it will be far in the future from where he is right now. If you are going to help Dean heal and recover, you'll need to accept that this is going to be a very long and hard road from here on out." Silas finished at last, taking in the utterly devastated faces of the men before him. Tears were abundant among the three hunters and Silas felt sick knowing he'd had to impart to them such painful truths but it had been necessary for them to understand all of it if Dean stood any chance of recovering.

"I am truly sorry, gentlemen. No one should ever have to face this level of human evil, even such men as yourselves that are well-acquainted with the myriad of evils out there in the world. I'll do what I can to help Dean and you all as well but it's all going to come down to Dean himself. He must make his way back and choose to live. Beyond that, we can do nothing more than be there to support him." Silas said, finished with the diagnosis and prognosis for the young hunter.

Sean nodded toward the door and Silas nodded in agreement then followed his brother out silently, understanding that the family needed time to process the soul-crushing weight he'd just heaped on them. The men stopped outside the now closed door, looking on at the devastating scene for a long moment.

"You think Dean or any of them are gonna be able to come back from this?" Sean asked quietly.

"Honestly? I don't know. For everyone's sake, I hope so. That young man is obviously the glue that holds the family together. God help them all if he doesn't make it…God help all of us, too…" Silas answered in an equally hushed tone. Sean gave his brother's shoulder a firm squeeze, showing his understanding and offering his support.

Sean knew that his brother was a very empathetic person and that even though he didn't know the family well, the family's situation was affecting his brother deeply, more so then he was letting on. It had been for that reason , his empathy, that Silas has chosen a life of helping others, just as he had. Difference was that his brother had chosen a small town, a place more sheltered from the evils humanity was capable of committing against one another. Silas turned slightly toward his brother, giving him a small, sad smile and a nod of thanks. Sean's hand eased away and he and his brother turned and strolled silently away down the dark corridor; away from the tattered and torn family that lay beyond the closed doors, giving them much-needed time alone.

* * *

**A/N:** So, I was hoping to get this chapter posted up last night but, I couldn't quite manage it. Still, 3 chapter in less then a week is still awesome, right? I am really trying to make sure I get this as caught up as I can, so nearly all of what I had written in my handy-dandy notebook has been typed and offered to you, my loyal and loving fans. I have a bit of the next chapter written and an Interlude with Dean himself, but I'll still need to sit down and write some more of the story out so it might be a little while before I get it up for you. I am going to be working to get typed what I have written for another story done as well. After that, I'll pop back over to this one and keep it going for you. Anyhoo...

**As always, please, please, PLEASE Read & Review!**

Also, the links to my Supernatural line of jewelry, which I sell on eBay, link to images for the pieces to give you an idea of what I have. To get the link to the current wares for sale on eBay, ask me or look for MidniteX13 on eBay and it should bring me up for you. My line includes replicas of the **Mary Winchester Hunter's Protection** bracelet (as seen in the episode **'In the Beginning'**) and the **Dean Winchester Skull** bracelet (worn from **season 2 to present**), and other Superntaural-themed bracelets! The links are handily located on my **Profile**!

I can also get ahold of replicas of the **Dean Winchester Protection Amulet**, if anybody is interested.


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